A/N Warning: Violence and Scary Stuff – You've been warned.

Brooke pushed herself up, crawling back onto the motel bed. Mike looked at her, his eyes showing no emotion.

They had, however, shown her all she needed to see. She'd seen those eyes before.

"As I was saying…" he continued.

"You're not my father!" Brooke said. "Who… What are you?"

Mike took a deep breath, and stood, towering over the frightened girl. She flinched as he reached to run his fingers through his hair. It was only when she relaxed slightly that his fist knocked her back onto the floor.

"So," he shouted, "you figured it out. Aren't… you… just… the… smartest!" he said, every word punctuated by a kick at Brooke's ribs. It was almost a minute before she could breathe.

"As I was saying," he shouted, pacing the room, "you've fucked everything up now – for you, for Sam, for Jane and, yes, for dear old daddy. Just imagine how he's going to feel when they find him with his dead daughter's blood all over his hands!"

Brooke's bravado was gone. She was more terrified than she'd even been. "N…no," she sputtered, spitting blood.

"Yeah, it's a tragic story, dad finds out daughter and step-daughter were clam-diving behind his back, and decides to take out the whole family, even the poor baby, before killing himself."

Brooke vomited onto the carpet. She tried to lift herself up, but a foot on her back pushed her back down.

"Don't get up, sweetie, save your strength." He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear.

"After all, we've got a lot of time to play before we're done."

"W…why are you doing this?" she sputtered.

"Why? Why ask why? Because," he pulled her up by the hair, "it's fun!" he let her head fall back onto the floor with a thud and began pacing again.

"And there's that little matter of you throwing the entire fucking universe out of whack by walking out of hell! Did you really think we were gonna let you do that? You don't walk out of hell – sets a very bad precedent."

Brooke coughed and sputtered on the carpet. It took her several minutes to answer.

"It was all… real, wasn't it?" she finally said, in between spitting and coughing blood.

"Yes," the face of her father told her, "it's all real, and you're in the middle of it."

"What do you want?" she whimpered.

"What do we want?" Mike sounded amused by the question. "I dunno, to rip the wings off of angels, to tear down every work of man before time can rot it away." He became more agitated as he spoke, his voice rising to a shout. "…to expose the wretched, rotten heart of humanity and show God what he really created!"

Reaching down he lifted Brooke up, sitting her on the bed. "…and we want you back in hell where you belong, and I want to see you suffer forever, so He can watch you suffer and weep for His stupid mistake!"

He lay on top of her, face pressed against hers. Her eyes were wide with horror, his with rage.

"…and if I have to slaughter a hundred, a thousand, or a million of you fucking monkeys to do it, that's just fine."

Brooke could only weep as her dress was lifted. She tried to beg him to stop as his hand ran up her thigh.

When there was a knock on the door, he got up, and Brooke silently thanked any God who was listening.

Mike opened the motel room door to see a very angry Harrison, who shoved past him into the room.

"What the fuck are you doing? This bitch belongs to me!" he shouted at Mike.

"Calm down boy," Mike answered. "She belongs to all of us now. You let her go!"

Harrison surveyed Brooke's bloody, battered body on the bed. "You can't kill her yet," he shouted, "we haven't got her back yet."

"Oh she'll come back," the older man responded, placing an arm over Harrison's shoulder. "When she realizes what she's done to her family, they'll be no other place for her – isn't that right Brooke?"

Brooke shifted on the bed, trying to move against the wall and away from the men.

"What about my family?" she asked.

Mike leaned onto the bed, pressed his face very close to Brooke's, causing her to turn away. He just whispered into her ear.

"When you see them slaughtered because of you, you'll remember what you are, and where you belong."

As he spoke, his hand touched her leg. "Now, where were we?" he asked. "C'mon boy – we might as well have some fun while we're here."

Elsewhere, the desk clerk listened to the screams coming from the only room rented that night. As he turned on the "No Vacancy" sign, he chuckled, and the neon glare flickered across the blackness of his eyes.