Quite relieved to get the chance to speak with Goliath at last, Angela hastily thanked Hudson and joined her father in the corridor. He greeted her warmly, grasping her shoulders as if he wanted to embrace her without getting her all wet. Angela could see that his eyes appeared tired. She reckoned that trying to make sense of Demona could make anyone weary and she felt a flash of anger at her for causing her father so much pain.

"Are you alright?" he inquired with concern, "I expected that you would have wanted to stay with her longer. Did she say something that upset you?"

"No. Nothing like that." Angela explained the strange manner in which Xanatos had interrupted her conversation with Demona and Goliath looked puzzled.

"Xanatos told me that you 'sort of' knew about this," Angela told him hopefully.

"I fear Xanatos exaggerated my input into whatever it is he is up to."

Angela's worry must have been evident as Goliath took her claw in his comfortingly and said, "Come. Let us go and see what this is about." They hurried toward the cell where Demona had been kept and Angela was a bit surprised to find that she had already been returned to it. As far as they could see, she was wrapped in a thick comforter and lay asleep on the plastic bed, hanging from the wall of the cell.

"Demona?" Goliath called to her, but she didn't stir. He entered the security code that allowed them to enter her cell and they approached to look at her closer. Goliath called her name again and Angela gently shook her shoulder, but still she slept, her breathing soft and even. Gently, Goliath knelt beside the bed, opened the comforter, and checked her arms, wings, and shoulders for any marks or clues as to what Xanatos had done to her. The only difference Angela noticed was the device Lexington had placed at the base of her wings to control her on their glide back to the castle had been removed. After examining her as best as he was able, he wrapped the comforter around her again, as tight as it had been. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he softly stroked her face, as if to check for a fever.

"I see no injury," Goliath concluded softly, "Though it seems strange that she sleeps at night."

"She told me that she is never able to sleep. Not since Puck put that spell on her that changes her into a human."

Goliath seemed a bit concerned by this, but said,

"Then let us not disturb her rest any more tonight."

He moved as if to stand upright, but then paused again, looking at her strangely. Angela watched as her father reached gently to touch her face again, leaning in so close that Angela wondered if he would whisper something to her as she slept, or perhaps even kiss her. He did neither though. He only felt her warmth for a moment, looking on her sleeping face with such a longing that Angela saw for the first time all that she had once been to him. Unable to contain her fear any longer, she pleaded with him,

"Please, Father. Please don't let her and Macbeth kill each other."

Goliath rose and, putting his arm around her shoulder, he consoled her, "I know you've been worrying about this. I promise you; I have no intention of allowing that." Angela breathed in deeply, fully reassured by his promise.

"Come," Goliath beckoned softly, "She is all right for the moment. We'll leave her to rest and find somewhere else to talk."

A short time later, they found their way to the library. A tremendous burden had been lifted from Angela and she confessed,

"Broadway and Hudson were sure that you wouldn't even consider letting her die, but I wasn't convinced."

"I'll tell you what I told her. Death is never the answer."

Angela nodded, "I know, but you said you needed to consider it."

"I did say that," he admitted, "But I didn't say it because I needed to consider my conclusion as much as I needed to consider the question."

"What do you mean? What question?"

"The question of why," he explained, "Why is it we can't just let her die? And I've gotten the impression that 'Death is never the answer,' isn't going to satisfy her."

"No," Angela agreed, "I don't think that's going to cut it."

"She's looking to me, not to tell her what the answer isn't, but what the answer is," he sighed, "And I'm at a loss as to what to say at this point."

Angela felt that the answer to why someone shouldn't have themselves killed ought to be fairly obvious, but in Demona's case, it was all so complicated.

"She's in such despair," he continued, "I wanted to give her an answer that would give her some hope or courage."

"You do still care for her," Angela observed, remembering what Broadway has told her.

"I'm responsible for her as leader of this clan," he responded adamantly, "But yes, I do still care for her. Despite what she may think, I don't enjoy watching her suffer."

"You've told me nothing of your memories of her, or your life together," Angela said sadly and Goliath nodded silently.

"You must have loved one another very much."

"We did," he said darkly, "But it was so long ago."

"I know it was long ago," Angela pressed, "But it still matters very much."

"I wish it didn't matter so much to you. I only want to protect you from her."

Angela looked away uncomfortably.

"What is it?" Goliath asked.

"I won't ever become like her," she insisted suddenly, with a tinge of bitterness in her tone that caught Goliath off guard. He stared at her questioningly.

"I didn't realize that was ever a concern," he admitted, "I've never been worried that Demona would convince you to betray your clan, if that's what you thought. I was only worried that she would hurt you." Goliath stood from the stool he'd been resting on and began to walk over to a specific shelf where he often laid aside books he was interested in reading in the future. It had grown quite crowded as he rarely had the time he wanted to read.

"It's funny you should say that though," he continued with his back to her as he searched among the titles for something, "Because you are already so very much like her, in so many ways."

Angela nodded, "Everyone says I look like her."

"Her beauty is only one of many gifts she seems to have given you, without even the benefit of having known you. So much so that I must admit that since you've come into my life, you have filled up much of the void in my heart left by her loss."

"Have I?" she replied, not at all sure how she felt about it.

"Right or wrong," he continued, "When I look to my side and find you there, you are like a living memory of my love as I knew her, and for a moment, I needn't bother my heart with thoughts of that wretch locked in that cell downstairs." Over her shoulder, Angela saw Goliath lean against the bookshelf, resting his brow in his claw as if his head ached. Suddenly, she was shocked by the soft and low sound of him sobbing. It froze her for a moment, for she had never known him to cry. Vulnerability typically manifested itself in Goliath as fits of rage, not tears. But at last, she gathered her wits and went to comfort him.

"We were very happy," he told her softly, "We were always very happy in one another's company. We were the dearest of friends from the time we were infants. I had many good friends among my brothers and many sisters who were beautiful, kind, and clever, but there was none like her. She knew me in ways no one else did. She saw in me things that no one else ever thought to look for.

We never quarreled. Not to say we didn't disagree on things, even passionately, but we never sought to attack one another, and we always remembered our love for one another and never held a grudge. She was never afraid of me. No matter how angry I became or how stubborn I was that I didn't want to hear something, she would stand before me without fear. The other members of the clan would tell her whenever they had something to complain about because she was the only one who could stand up to me.

She believed in me to a fault. She would never allow me to give up on anything or run from any fear. She admired my strength, but she would not have me settle into a role of being mindless cannon fodder. It was her that taught me to read, and together we studied any book we could get our talons on. We could talk for hours in excitement of ancient battles and far off lands, or lay quietly together in the moonlight, reading stories and poetry."

Goliath paused and Angela looked up at him, hoping he would continue. She had a dozen questions to ask but was afraid she might break the spell that allowed him suddenly to put into words all the memories she had hoped to hear for so long.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, "I do want to tell you. You deserve to hear these stories. It's just that there's so much pain and I just want to…

"Forget her?" Angela suggested, but Goliath shook his head vehemently.

"How can I forget the greatest happiness I have ever known? No, I don't want to forget her. I just can't bear to talk about her out loud. Perhaps one day?" Angela nodded, still holding his arm firmly. She understood how hard it was for him, but still she had hoped for more. She watched as Goliath selected a book from the shelf, and she suddenly got an idea.

"What if you wrote your memories down for me?" she asked suddenly.

"I've never written anything before," he protested.

"But you've read so many books," Angela pointed out, gesturing toward all the shelves in the library, "You must have picked up the basics by now. And it doesn't have to be perfect. It would just be for me to read."

Goliath seemed to consider the idea. "I supposed I could do that," he agreed, "At least I might try. It will probably take some time though."

"That's alright," Angela assured him, "I've been waiting for a long time already. A little bit longer won't matter.

"Goliath?" came the cold voice of Owen from the library door, "Please forgive the intrusion, but Mr. Xanatos wishes to see you."