AN: The song is "Goodnight Demon Slayer" by Aurelio Voltaire.

Doug's first night was hell. He'd had grilled cheese sandwiches with the siblings and that had been pretty nice. But grilled cheese doesn't cure psychosis. Now he was cowering in the far corner on the kitchen counter. There were cupboards right above him but they were comforting. Nice, small, cramped nook.

"Doug, come on," the Companion Cup said. It seemed to be staring at him in the dark from a table next to the couch. "Get off the counter and sleep on the couch. That doesn't look comfortable."

"I c-can't stand being out in the open space," Doug whispered nervously. "A-And I thought I heard g-gunshots from outside."

"Relax," the Cup said. "The door is locked."

"The door is also glass," Doug snapped. "Fragile, very breakable glass. Just leave me alone."

Distant gunshots echoed outside. His eyes darted toward the sliding door. It was pitch-black beyond the glass. He couldn't see anything but his imagination ran wild.

"You don't want me to leave you alone," the Cup said. "Doug, take a deep breath and calm down."

"I-I shouldn't have left," Doug mumbled. "W-Why did I th-think I could do this b-b-by myself?"

Tears were suddenly streaming down his face as his breathing became much heavier. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and trembled as he worked hard to restrain a sob. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up his hosts with his pathetic fears.

"I-I can't leave this sp-spot," Doug stammered. "I'm too sc-scared." The last word came out in a sob. He started mumbling to himself about Nora and turrets and bottomless pits. He wasn't even sure about the things he was rambling about, but he also didn't care. It was a familiarity that was oddly comforting to him.

"Doug?" a voice whispered in the dark.

Doug tried to keep his mouth shut but he couldn't. His mind was slipping away into a dark place.

"Doug? Are you okay?" the mysterious voice whispered.

The kitchen light was suddenly flipped on with Valentine's hand on the switch. She stared at him with tired eyes and a thin cotton robe wrapped around her body. The light brought no comfort to Doug like it did to her, though. He gasped and covered his face with his hands, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Turn off the light!" he cried out, his voice muffled by his hands. "It hurts too much!"

His tone startled Valentine, but she obliged by quickly flipping down the light switch. She fumbled around in the living room and lit a small candle with a lighter. She slowly brought the candle over to the kitchen where she could see Doug still cowering on the counter.

"What are you doing up there?" she asked quietly.

"Just l-leave me alone," Doug sobbed. "Please. I-I'm not leaving this spot. The light hurts."

Valentine looked as though she wanted to approach Doug, but something was holding her back. Instead, she sat down in the middle of the kitchen, still holding the small candle.

"W-Why won't you just leave me alone?" Doug sobbed.

"There's a monster that lives 'neath your bed.

Oh for crying out loud,

It's a futon on the floor.

He must be flat as a board.

There's a creature that lurks behind the door.

Though I've checked there 15 times,

When I leave then he arrives

Every night.

Tell the monster that lives 'neath your bed

To go somewhere else instead

Or you'll kick him in the head.

Tell the creature that lurks behind the door

If he knows what's good he won't come here anymore

Cause you'll kick in his butt at the count of four.

Goodnight demon slayer, goodnight.

Now it's time to close your tired eyes.

There are devils to slay and dragons to ride.

If they see you coming, hell they better hide.

Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.

Goodnight my little slayer, goodnight.

Tell the monster that eats children, that you taste bad

And you're sure you'd be the worst that he's ever had.

If he eats you, don't you fret, just cut him open with an axe.

Don't regret it, he deserved it, he's a cad.

Tell the harpies that land on your bed post

That at the count of five you'll roast them alive.

Tell the devil its time you gave him his due.

He should go back to hell, he should shake in his shoes

Cause the mightiest, scariest, creature is you.

Goodnight demon slayer, goodnight.

Now it's time to close your tired eyes.

There are devils to slay and dragons to ride.

If they see you coming, hell they better hide.

Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.

Goodnight my little slayer, goodnight.

I won't tell you, there's nothing 'neath your bed.

I won't tell you, that it's all in your head.

This world of ours is not as it seems.

The monsters are real but not in your dreams.

Learn what you can from the beasts you defeat,

you'll need it for some of the people you meet.

Goodnight demon slayer, goodnight.

Now it's time to close your tired eyes.

There are devils to slay and dragons to ride.

If they see you coming, hell they better hide.

Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.

Goodnight my little slayer, goodnight.

Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.

Goodnight."

Doug whimpered quietly as Valentine sang. It seemed to be a lullaby that she sang to her daughter. Her voice wasn't as lovely as before, though, because she was nervous. She wasn't used to knowing who could hear her voice. Around the end of the song, Doug settled down a bit. He was still trembling but he was silent. Valentine was pleased so she continued to softly hum the melody of the song.

"What are you doing?" Doug asked quietly.

"Humming," Valentine said.

"Smartass," the Cup mumbled from the living room.

"Why?" Doug asked.

"I'm trying to comfort you."

"You don't know what I'm going through."

"That may be true," Valentine said, "but I can't help my motherly instincts."

Doug didn't say anything. His eyes were closed as he contemplated Valentine's words. What if she had some ulterior motive for comforting him? What would it be? Was she just coaxing him to let his guard down so she could manipulate his mind easier?

"You can't think that of women, Doug," the Cup said.

I didn't say all women are manipulative, Doug thought.

"But it's in your head. Leave your past behind you. Valentine just wants to help you."

Valentine suddenly stood up and carried the candle back into the living room. She turned on a floor lamp which blinded Doug. Then she returned to her spot in the middle of the kitchen with her candle.

"Let's go into the living room, Doug," she said. "It's much more comfortable in there."

"Why did you come into the kitchen in the first place?" Doug asked suspiciously. "Why are you up so late?"

"I…couldn't sleep," Valentine said with some hesitation.

Doug met her gaze warily. From the dim light of the candle's flame, he noticed that her eyes were tired and a little red. It looked like she had been crying. He slowly lowered himself to the tiled floor and sat against the cupboards.

"Are you okay?" Valentine asked.

"I don't know yet," Doug murmured. "I just need a minute." He tried to even out his breathing.

"Man, your schizophrenia is pretty bad, huh?" Valentine remarked.

Doug shot her a look of annoyance which shut her up. He didn't like it when people spoke of his condition so casually. It wasn't something to be taken lightly. It haunted him and frustrated him and scared him every damn day. Sometimes he didn't know what was real and what was delusion.

"It doesn't make you crazy, you know," Valentine suddenly said as though she had been reading his mind. "It just makes your perception different from others."

"Hm," Doug said curtly. "What do you know about it?"

"Enough."

Doug stood up and silently shuffled past Valentine to the couch. Valentine didn't follow him, though. She filled two mugs with water and put them in the microwave.

"I think she's making you a cup of tea." The Cup said.

Doug shrugged. He didn't really care about the tea. He didn't think he would be able to sleep any time soon anyway. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them.

I wish she wouldn't act so damn motherly toward me, he thought. It feels like she's being condescending.

"She's only trying to be helpful," the Cup said. "Give her a chance. She hasn't done anything wrong to you."

The microwave beeped and Valentine soon returned with two mugs of hot water. She set one on the end table next to Doug along with a teabag. Then she sat in the armchair perpendicular to the couch, dipping her teabag in her hot water.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked, but she stared down into her mug.

Doug shrugged again. "I…I think leaving Aperture was a mistake," he said. "I feel so lost out here. After being in Aperture for so long, I don't think I belong in society anymore." He took his teabag and dunked it a few times in his mug.

"Why do you say that?" Valentine asked.

"What do you mean?" Doug asked, confused. Had she not been listening to him?

"Do you think you're alone in your struggles?" Valentine went on. "What makes you so special? Your schizophrenia? Oh, whoop-de-doo! You have a psychosis! Do you think no one else in this town struggles with a mental disorder?"

Doug was stunned. Where was all of this sudden aggression coming from?

"Let me tell you something, Doug," Valentine continued, glaring at him. "You had two enemies at best in Aperture—GLaDOS and Wheatley. But here, in this town, everyone was my enemy. We were at each other's throats during the rebellion. It wasn't Society versus the Combine. It was Everyone versus Everyone. Free game. If someone wanted a person dead, they waited to do it during all the confusion of the battle. It was hell. But you know what? That makes you stronger than everyone here. You haven't had the chance to succumb to what society was a week ago. So don't give me this crap about how tortured you are inside! You don't know torture! You don't know pain!"

Doug was silent as tears started to roll down Valentine's cheeks. It was obvious that she was trying her best not to cry. She breathed heavily as she looked down and wiped her eyes. Fresh tears quickly replaced the old ones, though.

"I'm….I'm really sorry, Valentine," Doug said quietly. "You're right. I didn't have to go through as much as you did when I was in Aperture. I was kind of being selfish."

Valentine sniffled. "It's fine," she said. "Sorry about getting so damn emotional."

"It's okay," Doug said. He sipped his tea.

"Let's talk about something more pleasant."

"How about books?"