Apollo, exhausted by the new developments but sure that they were safe for the time being, went to his bedroom to try and get even a few moments of sleep. Flightlings were genetically fascinating creatures but the mix of human blood in their systems did leave them with a few key design flaws. They had to sleep long and sleep hard in order to function healthily; their human bodies couldn't accommodate their flightling abilities without some strain.

Gibbs too finally succumbed to much needed sleep, as he'd been prisoner in a cell for the past day and a half with almost no rest. He and Ziva both slept for most of the day, not waking up until it was dinnertime that night.

Tim and Victoria couldn't possibly sleep for their worry, and spent most of their day pacing around the house like a bunch of caged animals, playing the visit from Thaddeus D'Amico over in their heads, wondering how they could exist knowing there was a murderer loose on the streets of Venice, realizing they could do virtually nothing to stop him- they'd be struck down without warning. They were horribly ill-equipped to fight such a creature, such a legion of creatures, as the new army of flightlings their visitor had alluded to.

At one point, their paths intersected in the ballroom. Victoria had just finished an hour stress-gardening in the courtyard, and Tim had just spent that hour treading back and forth across the living room, wearing a hole in the carpet. As they walked up to each other, Victoria gently reached up and wrapped McGee in a hug. Tim returned the embrace gratefully, and she put her forehead on his shoulder. He could feel the stress in her, and the quiet strength that rested beneath it. He was reminded that her worst fears about herself were all confirmed whenever they met a new monster like Thaddeus D'Amico. But she brushed that fear aside as she pulled back to examine his face. "How are you doing?" Despite all her wariness about herself and about strangers, it often surprised Tim just how gentle she could be. (Just like him, though he didn't realize that about himself in the slightest.)

"As well as you are, I guess," he replied.

At that moment, Tony appeared, in good spirits. He was completely unaware of what had happened only a few hours before. "What day is it? I'm all thrown off-" he immediately noticed the expression on his best friend's face. "What happened?"

Victoria looked between the two and stepped out, heading towards the kitchen. "I'm going to start on dinner," she said, giving them some time to talk.

DiNozzo's brow creased as he turned to Tim. "What's wrong, McGee?"

Tim explained everything that had happened while Tony was asleep. When he was finished, his friend closed his eyes and cursed.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

They stood there in silence, until McGee said, "Apollo's got a house in New York. I'd say we all just go back to America, but…"

"But what happens in Venice?" Tony asked. Tim nodded and continued. "Besides, I don't think Apollo could just up and leave his home all of the sudden."

"You know, you all could leave," he reminded DiNozzo. "I'll bet Vance is wondering where you are anyway…"

"McGee," Tony said, practically scolding his younger friend. "We don't want to leave until you come with us. And even if you weren't involved in this. There's a psychopath out there trying to do hell-knows-what to the city of Venice. It's our job to do something."

Tim knew the feeling. No decent person could sit idly by and let Venice succumb to the reign of terror that D'Amico wanted to unleash, even if no one in the city would ever know that it happened.

Tony noticed how worn Tim appeared to be and realized he'd hardly slept in almost two days.

"You look awful, McGee."

"Thanks, Tony," Tim quipped, but nodded. "I probably could use some rest."

DiNozzo watched as his friend trudged down the hall and turned the corner, out of sight. Feeling like he had to do something to keep his thoughts occupied, he went to walk around the house. But it didn't take long until he got lost and accidentally ended up in the kitchen.

Victoria turned when she heard someone enter, but was clearly not expecting it to be Tony. "Hello," she greeted. DiNozzo noticed with relief that all of the animosity she'd shown him was gone.

"Hi…" he looked around. "Do you need help?"

"Sure." She didn't really require any assistance, but appreciated the company. Victoria gave him a genuine smile, which he returned with his own signature grin. Tony resisted mentioning that this was the first time he'd actually seen her smile at all.

McGee tossed and turned, trying to rest but failing. After an hour of laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, he decided to go for a quick flight around town. The sun had gone down, he'd spent the whole day worrying. Exercising his wings would do him good.

He wasn't concerned with safety, knowing that as long as D'Amico kept his word (and Apollo seemed convinced that he would) then Valero Notte would be perfectly safe. However, he knew that if he told anyone where he was going, they'd panic. So he snuck out of his window and took off into the night.

He didn't fly for long, just enough to get his blood pumping. After a half hour of this, he headed back towards home. Much like the night he'd first encountered Team Gibbs, McGee decided to alight in the courtyard of the church next door, to get his thoughts in order before he finally went to bed.

This time he didn't land on a beam over the garden, remembering the nasty fall he'd taken the last time. Instead he landed directly in the garden and strolled around, tucking his wings away.

It was even larger than the courtyard in their house just next door; this one was full of religious statues, benches, and small trees, perfect for attracting birds and humans come to pray. Tim kicked himself, remembering that Victoria would love this place and that he'd forgotten to take her to see it. In his defense, he had been distracted.

Eventually he wandered into the church, pulling open the side door and expecting to see a few individuals come to say their evening devotions. Instead he found only one person, sitting a few pews from the front, gazing with dull interest at the stained glass over the altar. The individual's eyes glinted in the candlelight, and Tim leapt into the shadows. For there sat Thaddeus D'Amico.

"Hello Timothy," the older man called. "I was expecting you'd come. No need to hide in the shadows, I'm here to talk to you."

McGee's eyes widened, but he only moved further away, until he was several rows behind Thaddeus. He felt a distant stab of guilt, knowing he'd forced Tony into the shadows in the same way. But he was more concerned as to why this man was waiting for him, and how he knew that Tim would show up.

"How-?"

"I'm old. I've been around for centuries, I can read people when I need to. And I could see that you're the type to get away for a while when you need to think. Though I have to admit, I thought you'd come around a bit sooner. I've been sitting here for a while."

"...What did you want to talk to me about?" McGee asked warily, not trusting this creature at all.

"I was so busy visiting with Apollo that I didn't get a real chance to talk to you. I apologize for staring like I did. It isn't everyday that I meet new members of our species."

"Our species?" Tim narrowed his eyes. Although he often referred to non-flightlings as humans, he didn't feel as though he weren't human himself. "I didn't think of flightlings as our own species."

"Flightlings," Thaddeus scowled. "What an infantile term for something so powerful. All we're capable of, and it sounds like something out of a children's book. Our kind used to go by so many fascinating titles. The stupid name we're called now was created by hunters in the seventeenth century. A way to diminish our 'fear-factor,' if you will. To make us no more than a myth."

McGee said nothing, and the man continued. "But that's not why I wanted to speak with you."

"You wanted to weaken my defenses," the younger man muttered. But Thad heard him.

"That's what you've heard of me, then. I'm sure Apollo has told you all kinds of stories. You probably don't think I'm capable of genuine emotion anymore. Apollo certainly doesn't think so. He forgot that we were comrades once. I did genuinely care about my family, you know. They were taken from me too."

McGee stayed in the shadows, though he knew full well that D'Amico could sense his location. If he turned, he wouldn't miss Tim's eyes, even in such darkness. It was more for the young man's sense of security that he stood so far from his family's rival. The older man continued.

"Of course, now we're sworn enemies. But you. I like you. You've got potential, I can tell. And that girl…your mate or another one of Apollo's 'loved ones'? She certainly was beautiful." After a long pause, he reached a decision. "…But no, I can't imagine that she's yours. Apollo treated you both the same. You're both his kids."

Thaddeus finally turned and caught McGee's startled expression. "That's what I thought." He turned back towards the altar. Tim was well aware of the message he was trying to send; he was so at unafraid by his enemy's son that he felt comfortable enough to turn his back on him.

"So are you two actually brother and sister? Or did Apollo take you each in separately?"

Tim's ears burned, but he said nothing. "Oh, come on now," Thaddeus said. "As if these details give me any sort of power over you."

"They could," McGee challenged, surprised at his own boldness.

"At least give me her name," Thad chuckled. "I promise I won't ever use her name against you."

"….Victoria," Tim acquiesced.

"Victoria. Seems fitting."

McGee gathered his courage (or was it his recklessness) and strode out into the light, coming to stand several rows in front of Thaddeus. His wings were out, but he let them droop until they brushed against the floor. He refused to let the older man know how frightened he was. D'Amico once again nodded approvingly at the feathery limbs. "Those are strong appendages, even for someone who's clearly never taken a soul before."

He said it so callously that it McGee couldn't keep the surprise and disgust off his face, which only added to his challenger's amusement.

"Oh please. Are you really so insulted by your own instincts? Surely you've seen what my kind of living can do for you. You've never thought about your potential? That's what I came to talk to you about."

"You came to recruit me," the young flightling realized.

Without answering Thaddeus stood, and while Tim didn't move, his wings fluttered in agitation, betraying his emotions. But the older man strode past him and looked around.

"Well, there's no steel here for me to bend, but I assure you it's quite the party trick. And your lifespan, your strength…all could increase tenfold. I've even found I can conduct electricity without hurting myself. I tell you, I'd read about some of these things in ancient lore, but I didn't believe it was possible until I could do it myself. Not to mention your wing span. Mine has doubled over the past century alone."

Shivers ran down Tim's own wings at the idea of one person wielding so much power. He hadn't seen Thaddeus' allegedly impressive wings yet, but he had the feeling they were as terrible and beautiful as he was. Still, there had to be risks to so much destruction, right? Suddenly he remembered the eyes of that old twisted flightling they had fought out in the city.

""I knew I'd never really get to tell you all the things you might be able to do while Apollo was around," the older man was saying, but Tim ignored the jab against the elder Clark.

"Doesn't that much killing do something to your eyes?"

"Ah, so you've seen that, have you? It's a rare thing. Even I'm too young for that yet. It doesn't affect your vision, as I understand, just makes you a little more intimidating. Not the most appealing sight, but what's a little vanity to eternal life?"

McGee scoffed. There was something about this man that made him angry and defensive. "You have to die sometime."

"Don't be so sure," came the teasing reply. "Or are you thinking about what might happen to someone like me, in the 'Great Beyond?'" A genuine laugh followed the suggestion. "I'm not sold on the idea that there's anything after this. Not for the half-bred creatures we've evolved into, anyway." He inspected McGee's face even closer. "Let me guess, you're the kind who thinks we're all good on the inside." He sneered the last part, and while McGee didn't completely discount the idea, he knew his challenger would see it as weakness.

"I think we all have choices," he responded vaguely.

"You can't avoid your own nature, can you? Is a lion bettered by choosing not to kill a zebra? No, he would be considered sickly."

McGee didn't answer the question outright, but instead took cues from Gibbs and responded neither in the negative or affirmative. "I've seen killers sacrifice themselves for others before. It's not really that much of a stretch."

"Ah, so you think we can all be saved from our worst impulses. Redeemed."

Thaddeus make a face that told Tim the man knew something he didn't. Keeping his eyes locked on McGee's, studying his face, he crossed over to the large basin of holy water made for baptisms. He drew a long intricate blade from his belt, to which Tim jerked back, even though he was already more than a dozen feet away. Enjoying the younger flightling's fear, the ancient nobleman examined the steel blade, then rolled up the sleeve of his left arm.

"I know you can break iron and other strong metals, but you also must know that your skin can be susceptible to injury from the average sword, yes? That's another upside to taking what's rightfully yours- those things don't bother me anymore. I will admit that steel can still cause a scratch, even if I can snap this blade like a pencil."

At that, he dragged the knife across his forearm, creating a shallow cut that would surely be healed within the hour. Still, a few droplets of blood- black blood, almost as thick as ink- dripped over the water and connected with tiny splashes. Almost immediately upon impact, the blood sizzled and then burned, small flames licking up from the holy water as if rejecting the ichor. It burned a dark carmine red, bright and angry, before fizzling out with a puff. It looked like a chemical reaction that could only be made in a lab. Thaddeus studied Tim's face, which the younger man was trying to keep a neutral mask, to hide his alarm.

"Tell me that's the blood of a redeemable man," D'Amico scoffed, returning the blade to its spot on his belt and rolling his sleeve back down. Tim stared, frozen at what he had seen. The scientist in him raced through a list of chemical compounds and mixtures that could create such a reaction. But the gentle soul in him, the one that saw the potential good in anyone, recoiled.

Thaddeus easily strolled past McGee once again, and headed for the door. "My offer still stands. If you change your mind, drop by sometime." As he pulled on the handle, he stopped and turned back to look at the psychological damage he'd done. "And before you go, I suggest trying that last trick on your own. That doesn't happen because of how many souls I consume." With that, he was gone.

Tim turned to look at the basin of holy water once more. Taking a tentative step forward, the flightling's heart rate jumped. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know what would happen if he did as Thaddeus recommended. But he wasn't sure he could ever sleep again if he didn't find out.

Closing the rest of the space between himself and the water, McGee took a deep breath, then reached down for the knife at his ankle- he'd left it there for their mission to Venice, and had totally forgotten about it until now.

Bracing against the impending pain, Tim dug the tip of the weapon into his palm. He only opened a small sliver but it was enough to draw blood. McGee slowly tipped his hand until the blood ran down his palm and into the basin.

To his horror, bright red flame shot up from the water.