Angela rose abruptly at the sight of Owen and demanded, "What did Xanatos do to Demona?"

"Yes," Goliath added suspiciously, "When we went to see her, she was asleep in the middle of the night, and we couldn't wake her. What is going on here?"

Unfazed, Owen replied in a cool tone, "Mr. Xanatos intends to discuss these things with you, Goliath, if you will follow me." Gesturing toward Angela, he continued, "You may come as well, if it pleases you. Demona has awakened now. She was asking about you."

As they approached Demona's cell, Angela heard raised voices, indicating a heated discussion. They hurried to find Xanatos in the antechamber of Demona's cell. He stood with an attitude of remarkable ease, considering the enraged-looking gargoyle before him. At his feet, lay several objects that appeared to have been recently launched at him from beyond the electrified bars that separated them.

"My dear Demona," Xanatos was saying in a tone that dripped condescension, "Despair is an unhealthy and unproductive waste of an otherwise perfectly good imagination. You have no idea what tomorrow may bring, and it so happens that your friend Xanatos has your back on this…" Xanatos trailed off as he caught sight of Goliath and Angela, standing puzzled beyond the exterior door.

"Ah, Goliath!" he exclaimed gesturing for them to come in, "Owen, open the gate for them. Don't worry, the protective bars are still active out of respect for my own mortality. Though that won't be necessary much longer."

"What exactly is going on here," Goliath demanded. Xanatos raised his eyebrows as if confused by the question, then laughed.

"Oh, you mean all of this?" he asked, pointing to the books, plastic bin, and what appeared to be a shattered plate of some kind of stew on the floor.

"Demona is feeling frustrated because I will not allow her to check her email. That's all. But I explained to her that isn't the way imprisonment typically works. Isn't that right, Demona?" She snorted as she angerly sat on the bed. "Come Goliath," he said, ignoring her, "Let's go talk in another room. Angela, I fear we were rude before, when we interrupted your conversation. Why don't you stay and continue it now? Owen, can disarm the bars once we leave."

Angela waited for Xanatos and Goliath to disappear behind the exterior door of the cell and for the hissing sound and loud beep that indicated the bars were no longer electrified. Demona said nothing, so Angela asked,

"Is it alright if I come in?" Demona looked over her shoulder at Angela.

"I don't think asking permission to come in is how imprisonment typically works," she replied snidely. Angela decided to take that as an affirmation that it was alright for her to enter, and she needn't worry about any objects being thrown at her.

"You were sleeping when I came back before," Angela informed her.

"Yes," Demona replied.

"How did that come to happen? I thought you said you couldn't sleep?"

"Xanatos did something to me after he drugged me. He said I'd be able to sleep for a time, anytime I wanted now. He also said that was only the beginning so who knows what he's planning." Then she grimly added, "He assures me that it's all for my own good though."

"You don't trust him, I suppose?" Angela asked and Demona responded with a dark chuckle.

"I don't trust anyone."

Angela drew her breath to implore Demona to try to trust her, but then thought the better of it. Instead, she changed the subject.

"It must have been nice to finally sleep, though. Don't you feel better?"

Demona nodded reluctantly.

"It was strange. I had such vivid dreams," she told her hesitantly, "I've never had such dreams before. I don't think we dream in stone sleep at all." Angela shrugged. She had never known dreams herself, that she could remember. Demona seemed to be suddenly interested in sharing about them, so she didn't want to interrupt.

"It felt so real, but then it wasn't. Because some things were just as they are in real life, but then others weren't as they were supposed to be at all. Humans often talk about dreams that seem real, but I couldn't have imagined just how real."

"Where were you?" Angela asked, "In the dream, I mean." Demona hesitated again, as if afraid to share something so intimate.

"Places I know well," she said, "It was as if I was walking from memory to memory, but they were all distorted in some way or other."

"I saw a place in the forest near our home in Scotland. It was a clearing with a spring, where we often gathered to celebrate or relax. It was strange because no matter what direction I walked through the woods, I could never get any closer to it, nor further away. Someone had started a bonfire, just as we used to, and I saw my rookery brothers and sisters, talking and playing together. I wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying exactly, but I could hear their laughter and see their joyful faces in the firelight. I wanted to get closer, but I was certain that if they saw me, they would all leave me, so I stayed back. And then, after a time, I began to see the faces of other friends I had known in other lifetimes joining them. That was silly because they never knew each other in reality. But in my dream, they were all laughing together like old friends. Even though I longed to be with them I couldn't bring myself to go closer, so I had to be content with just watching them from afar."

"Then what happened?"

"I was joined by a rogue gargoyle, who stood beside me as I watched them. He was an elder from my clan. I remember him from my childhood. But he was banished, and I never saw him or heard of him again. The other elders said he'd probably died of a broken heart. But he spoke to me as if I was a child and he asked me why I didn't go and join my friends."

"What did you say?"

"I said that I was too afraid they wouldn't have me. That if I went too close, they would all flee or disappear and leave me alone. Again and again, he beseeched me to go join them around the fire, but I was too afraid, and I just wanted to remain in the darkness and watch them. And eventually, the rogue went away into the forest."

Demona glanced up at Angela, as if trying to guess what she was thinking.

"Was that the end?" Angela asked her.

"Not at all," she replied, "There were many of them and they kept appearing to me like scenes on a stage. All of them distorted memories form my past."

"Were they all sad like the first one?"

"No. They weren't all sad. Some were joyful and others were terrifying. I saw the Hunter destroying my loved ones many times over, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I couldn't even make a sound."

"Oh, Demona," Angela whispered mournfully and Demona seemed to wince at her reaction. As tight as she closed her eyes, she couldn't contain all of the tears gathering there. Angela touched her shoulder and Demona placed her own claw on her daughter's.

"I shall not tell you everything I saw in those dreams. It would horrify you to know half of what's creeping around in my memories. But there were beautiful ones as well. Some were so joyful, that for a moment they made me forget all my pain. But I can't tell you about those either. Those memories are too precious and can only be shared with the one who made them with me." Demona squeezed Angela's claw and looking at her asked, "Can you forgive me for that?"

Angela smiled.

"Of course, I can."

"Then I'll tell you the last one. But I hope you won't hate me for indulging in it. In the last dream, I was here in this cell. And Macbeth came and killed me with his sword. I know it sounds like another horrible one, but it wasn't at all. I was afraid for just a moment, but once the sword hit me there was no pain at all. I seemed to fall back into darkness. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear Goliath's footsteps and his voice as he called my name. I couldn't answer or move, but I felt him lifting me up and heard him as he grieved for me. I know it sounds awful, but it was rather peaceful. I felt his tears on my face and he pressed his face into my hair, and I was quite content because…"

Demona paused, unable to make sense of what she was saying.

"Because he had forgiven you?" Angela suggested, immediately fearing she was far too bold. Demona's head jerked up suddenly and for a moment, Angela thought she'd become angry with her, but she took her claw in her own and said, "Yes. Exactly. And how else could he?"

Angela didn't understand.

"How else could he…what?" she asked.

"Forgive me. How else could anyone? Even you? Even myself? It's not that I want to die. It's just that I can't very well see any other way forward."

"You might try a bit of trust," Angela pointed out and Demona snorted at her chastisement.

"I already told you; I don't trust anyone."

"But what have you got to lose?" Angela asked in disbelief.

"What little remains of my mind and soul may seem insignificant to you, but I'd just as well not see my story end with me eternally licking the walls and having conversations with shadows that aren't actually there."

"You won't even trust me?" Angela pleaded without even attempting to disguise her hurt.

"Isn't it better that way?" Demona asked softly, "I don't want to endanger you or cause you pain. At least not any more than I already have." Angela suddenly felt her hurt turning to anger and she let go of Demona's claw and rose over her defiantly.

"I'm not a child. I'm old enough to know my own heart and what I'm willing to risk. I want you to live. And I won't have you pretending that your death would be a benefit to me or that it would make it any easier to forgive you." Demona rose, as if to protest, but Angela didn't give her a chance. She walked through the gate, closing it behind her and called for Owen to let her out of the cell. She was so frustrated that she almost toppled right into Elisa, who was waiting for her just outside the door.

At the sight of her friend, Angela's anger broke down into desperation and she all but fell into Elisa's arms.

"Already, huh?" Elisa asked, squeezing her tightly.

"Am I out of my mind?" Angela moaned into her shoulder.

"Probably," Elisa admitted, "A little. But you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't at least try."

"I'll leave you ladies alone," Owen told them as he went to depart.

"You stay right there," Elisa ordered, "I have some questions for Xanatos and as I can't seem to find him anywhere, you'll have to make do." Owen scowled at her, but responded, "As you wish, Detective Maza."

Elisa returned her attention to Angela.

"What did she say to you anyway?"

"That she doesn't trust me and that I would be better off if she was dead."

"Well, I'll assume it sounded much worse the way she said it," Elisa responded doubtfully.

"It didn't. It just hurts," Angela admitted. Elisa sighed.
"Angela, Demona is a messed-up piece of work. Goliath has tried for years to reach her, and he's never gotten through. There's a very good chance that you won't get anywhere with her either." Angela sighed in disappointment. Elisa was always honest with her, and this wasn't what she was hoping to hear.

"But" Elisa continued, "If you are hellbent on trying to dig out the little bit of good in Demona's heart, you have to understand that there's going to be a whole lot of bad and ugly that comes out with it. What she's telling you is disturbing, but it's the only truth she knows."

Angela considered this.

"If she's ever going to trust me, I have to show her I'm not going to give up on her," she concluded. Elisa nodded.

"I can't say I'm overly optimistic about your chances of getting her to trust anyone again. But for what it's worth, you love her, and that makes you the best chance she has." Angela embraced her friend again, feeling much more confident. Then she asked Owen to let her back into the cell.