The foul cloud of smoke and dust that encircled the Eyrie building had turned into a ominous, yellowish brown glow with the sunset. The street that only a couple hours earlier had been a chaotic mass of confused, frightened, and injured people trying to figure out where to flee, was now eerily quiet and abandoned. Demona and Elisa Maza hurried up the stairs of the lobby entrance and the detective presented them both to two extremely haggard-looking security officers, who at the sight of the woman in handcuffs determined it was best to call Owen to deal with the situation.

As Maza informed an exasperated Owen that the building was in the evacuation zone and the people sheltering inside needed to be moved, Demona glanced around the lobby. Most of the occupants were gathered in a far corner, watching the news on television. With the detective distracted, she was able to casually walk close enough to get a basic understanding of what had actually occurred. The images were horrifying, but she was emotionally numb as she absorbed them. The detective had been wrong. She did not rejoice at the sight of massive death and destruction. But she had seen horror upon horror in her life, far too many for her to indulge in any form of grief either. For a brief moment, she wondered if that meant that she was broken, but quickly pushed the thought from her mind as she scanned the crowd for a little boy in a Mets sweatshirt. Not finding him among the crowd, she looked around the rest of the lobby, concerned about the iron dust he must have inhaled, but she didn't see him anywhere. Perhaps he had returned to his own realm, she reasoned. She hoped there was someone there who knew how to tend to his burns.

"Come on," Maza ordered sternly, taking hold of her shoulder and pushing her toward the elevators. Owen followed her on the other side.

"Where are these miraculous implants that are supposed to keep her locked down?" Maza demanded of Owen.

"Mr. Xanatos disengaged the implants shortly after the attack," he explained as he eyed Demona suspiciously, "He felt it would be imprudent to inhibit her ability to evacuate the building, if necessary. But she was supposed to be locked up in a holding cell downstairs. I was unaware she had escaped. I can't imagine how she managed it…and I assume you won't be kind enough to enlighten us?" She flashed a poisonous smile at his shift from talking about her to talking to her.

"Certainly," she sneered, "A little fairy came let me out."

Elisa Maza sighed. She was completely drained and was operating entirely on the benefits of her commitment to duty and mind-numbing shock. She didn't need this.

"I will attempt to contact Mr. Xanatos and see if he is able to re-engage the implants right now," Owen promised, "I've taken the liberty of having the gargoyles moved up from the storage cellar to the dining room. I thought it best that they not awaken outdoors." Elisa Maza nodded in response, and Owen left them as the elevator door was opening.

"It was clever of him, to think of that," Demona observed out loud as she followed her inside. Elisa Maza glared at her.

"Goliath was actually beginning to believe you would change," she accused, "And all this time, you were just waiting for the chance to break out again. How could you do this?"

"Oh, shut up you daft woman!" Demona demanded in return, "Have you truly not managed to work out that I wasn't trying to escape? Do you not think I can come up with a more effective escape plan than rescuing my captor from a collapsing pile of rubble? Do you honestly think I'd let you lead me like a leashed cur down thirty city blocks if you weren't taking me exactly where I wished to go in the first place?"

"What then? You just wanted to go for a cheerful little walk and view the devastation?"

"I had no way of knowing what was going on out there. I saw an opportunity to get out and back in without being missed and I took it."

"For what? What could be so important that you'd risk breaking what little trust you've managed to-

"What trust? They've got me fixed up with an 'off' switch! I assure you, no one trusts me and I've not broken anyone's anything."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Maza insisted, "He had hope for you. He's going to be heartbroken when he finds out about this."

"Well, better heartbroken than literally broken," she replied snidely. Maza's face changed from annoyance to concern and suspicion.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"The Hunters aren't through," she explained, "I know they're still set on killing me and destroying my kind. The clan is never going to be safe as long as they are still out there."

"So, it's back to your obsession with revenge, then? The Hunters are not a threat to you. Robyn and Jason Canmore have proven themselves to be our allies in the past years. Jason was the one that was leading them against us in the first place and dragging the others along for the ride. Now, he couldn't fight us if he wanted to. Thanks to the last eruption of your little vendetta, he is permanently paralyzed from the waist down. He severed his own spine trying to prevent his brother from killing Goliath. And their brother? He incites mobs and spreads fear and hate, but without the others, he doesn't have the power or resources to get past Goliath or Xanatos."

"Detective Maza," Demona began with the strained patience of an exasperated teacher attempting to explain things to a particularly dense child, "I'll assume you've been a bit busy today and haven't had the time to watch the news as I just did for about 90 seconds. But what they are saying is that the devastation and carnage you are seeing on the street tonight was accomplished by a small group of angry young men, using nothing but what is already available to the general public. Hatred is the only resource they required…Hatred and box cutters."

Elisa Maza still gazed at her with contempt, but Demona could see she had managed to plant a seed of doubt. And why not? When it came to hatred and terrorism, Demona was an expert in the field.

"We haven't heard from Jon Canmore directly in years," she retorted weakly.

"I hear from him every time I try to sleep."

Regaining a bit of her confidence, Maza pointed out,

"Those are dreams, Demona. They aren't reality. Do you know how you end a feud? You stop feuding!"

"Your quaint notions and insurmountable naivety are beyond annoying. I'm afraid there is more to this feud than you or Goliath realize. It can't just be walked away from. There is so much I can never put right. But perhaps, this is one thing I can."

The elevator door had stood open for several seconds, and Elisa Maza shook her head in bewilderment.

"You have an answer for everything, Demona," she accused, "But you are still so wrong." She indulged Maza in having the last word as they walked the corridor to her rooms in silence.

"Since we don't know when the implants are going to be turned on, I'm locking you in," Elisa informed her.

"No," she complained, "I want to go to the dining room where the others are."

"As hard as I'm sure it is for you to imagine, I don't really care what you want."

"Do I not get to be there to defend myself when you accuse me of trying to escape?"

Maza snorted. "I will tell him, but I promise you that isn't going to be happening tonight. He's going to be devastated as it is when I have to tell him about the attacks. Your petty nonsense can wait a couple nights."

"Please," she said bitterly. She couldn't stand begging to this deplorable vermin, but this was important. She was almost certain that when Goliath heard of the attacks, he would immediately want to tear out of the castle and head into the center of the annihilation. Inevitably, the others would follow and if they weren't all immediately shot down by the National Guard, they would be broadcast on national television, for the Hunter and every one of his minions to see. She didn't know if there was anything she could say or do to prevent this, but she had to try.

"I want to be there. Angela may want me."

"Somehow, I don't think you are the sympathetic ear she'll be looking for."

"I love her too, you know," she replied, though she showed no feeling when she said it, "You may not believe that, but she does." Elisa Maza glanced down at her watch.

"You have five minutes, and then I'm going upstairs to meet them."

She nodded her agreement and quickly went to discard her ruined set of human clothes and wash as much of the toxic dust from her skin and hair as possible. For the millionth time, she cursed her human form. It was true enough that stone sleep left her more vulnerable to human attacks. But it also cleansed her, rejuvenated her, and required of her weary and sorrowful soul several hours of peaceful, healing rest that she was now deprived of. She'd been a fool to despise a gift so natural and good in favor of her current, restless state. She dried and dressed herself quickly, then thought of something.

"Can you hear me, child of Oberon? Are you there?" she invoked just above a whisper, so Maza wouldn't hear her. There was no answer as she glanced around the room. A little concerned, she joined the detective so they could hurry to the dining room before sunset.

Explaining the attacks to the clan was as traumatic an experience as anyone could have predicted, and she made herself scarce in a corner during the whole ordeal, trying to convince herself she wasn't a coward for it. Their cries of outrage and anguish broke through the numbness that had encompassed her the entire day. She knew that waking up to the scenes shown on the television recalled every hellish memory of awakening to find their entire clan murdered. She closed her eyes tight, trying to remind herself that it was only humans that were slaughtered this time, and humans were far from innocent. Still, rage burned within her.

She was startled back to attention by the sudden crash of a chair against the cabinet that held the television. The shelves around it broke, sending glass, books, and video cases everywhere and a large crack appeared across the screen. But still, the images flickered behind it and Goliath leapt across the room for the door, roaring with rage.

"Goliath, wait!" Maza cried, but she couldn't hope to keep up with him. Demona could though, and she raced like a wildcat through the corridor, screaming for him to stop. He crashed through the doors into the courtyard and climbed to the parapet to behold what had happened to the city he had sworn to protect. She was just behind him as his face twisted with horror at the great fiery chasm below, burning like the pits of Hell, amid the incomprehensible darkness that surrounded it. Frantically, he expanded his wings as if to leap to a glide, but she was quick and tackled him at the shoulders, holding his wing joint with one arm and clenching his arm and shoulder with the other.

"Stop!" she commanded, "You mustn't go down there, you fool! They'll kill you on sight!"

"Get off of me!" he roared, thrashing madly in an attempt to pull, smash, or break himself free. But she had spent the entire day helpless, unable to open doors, break chains, remove handcuffs, or even defend herself against pitiful, weak humans, and Hell would freeze over before she let go now that she had her own strength again.

"They're gone, Goliath! There's nothing left to save! It's all crushed to dust and burned to ash! You can't-

"Goliath!" the voice of Brooklyn interrupted as he and the others appeared behind them, with Angela carrying Elisa Maza on her shoulders.

"I told you to get off!" he screamed menacingly, clawing blindly at her shoulders until he drew blood.

"I'll do no such thing! Look at them!" she hissed in his ear as they struggled, "They'll follow you anywhere! Don't you dare lead them down there to their deaths! Don't you dare!" Violently, he broke her grip and threw her to the ground. In a moment, she was up again, ready to attempt another tackle, but it was unnecessary. The policewoman was already in his arms, comforting him.

"Brooklyn, give us some time?" she pleaded. Brooklyn gestured and they all followed silently, up to the top of the tower where they always gathered to sleep. She went with them, but as they gazed to the south, at the horrific inferno that cast a ring of blackness around it, surrounded by the creeping lights of the boats, still ferrying away the survivors, she could only stare the opposite direction, at her mate with another in his arms. And though her mind knew it would do her no good to watch them, her jealous heart would not allow her to look away.

"Mother, please, come away from there," Angela said gently, and embraced her. It was the first comfort she'd known that night and it was welcome.

"Are you all right?" her daughter asked.

"No," she admitted, "Please don't go down there."

"You know we have to," she chided.

"For what? What could you possibly do?"

"Help. In whatever way we can."

"And get yourselves killed in the process. With humans, no good deed ever goes unpunished."

"I love you, Mother," she assured her, "I promise, we will be cautious. But we can't just abandon them now. You know that." She held her daughter tighter. She knew it was no use.

"Come," Angela said suddenly, "There is no point in staying up here. You can help us prepare."

"Xanatos told Owen that there were gas masks in the atrium," she remembered, "Perhaps they are still there?" Angela smiled at her and together they went to try and retrieve the masks without being seen.

She was impressed to discover that all of the people that had been sheltering in the atrium had already been successfully evacuated, though they'd left a lot of litter, destroyed shoes and clothing, and the like. They walked through the mess, searching all the most likely places for a large number of gas masks to be stored. Not able to find anything, they were about to leave disappointedly, when they noticed an unexpected sound, near the playground equipment.

"Someone's still in here," Angela said warily, "Let's not be seen." She agreed and they made their way toward the exit, but they stopped when they heard the voice of a child.

"Mom, are you all right?"

Angela glanced at her concernedly, as they both heard the sounds of movement in the colorful plastic tubes of the play structure. Surely, a child hadn't been left behind when the people were evacuated? They crept closer to the source of the voice, and were both relieved to recognize Xanatos' wife, Fox, hunched over on a bench beneath the play structure. She had her hands over her face and it was clear she was choking back sobs as she replied,

"I'm fine, Alex. Go ahead and play." She realized that the Xanatos' young son must have been playing in the tubes, keeping busy as his mother worried.

"Fox!" Angela greeted her, and the woman looked up in surprise.

"What is she doing here?" she demanded in horror, when she saw Demona.

"It's all right," Angela reassured her, "We had heard there might be gas masks in here."

"I have no idea about that," she told them frantically, "I just got home a few minutes ago. I walked here from the East River ferry and then the police wouldn't let me past the barricades. They said the whole area was being evacuated. My phone hasn't worked all day and the battery died hours ago. Even when I tried payphones, I couldn't get through to David or Owen. I found Alex upstairs, alone in his playroom." She paused, as if trying to control, or at least refocus her anger, then said, "I have no idea where his nanny went. David had meetings in the city this morning, but I don't know where they were and…"

Fox trailed off and for a moment, Demona was tempted to forget that she was speaking to a human, and a ruthless, self-indulgent, villainous one at that, for she had once borne the same agony that was evident in this woman's anxious eyes.

"Mrs. Xanatos," Demona began in an emotionless voice, "After the towers collapsed this morning, your husband came and released me from my rooms, and brought me down to the cellars for safety's sake. I have no idea where he is right now, but I'm certain he was not there this morning."

The woman raised her eyes in hope.

"Thank you for telling me," she replied gratefully, "Thank you. What a relief!"

"I wouldn't worry," Demona continued, "I have it on good authority that your husband intends to live forever."

The woman laughed at that.

"Of course he will," she agreed, clearly comforted as she wiped the tears and fatigue from her eyes.

"I most certainly will," announced the man himself, from the doorway.

"Dad!" the child called happily, climbing down the play structure and running to his father's arms, "I told her you were fine!" His wife joined them, weeping with joy, and the family forgot the world for a moment as they embraced.

"A greeting such as this makes a man feel a little less helpless," Xanatos praised, kissing his wife's hair.

"As if you could ever be helpless, David," she laughed.

"I've never felt more helpless than tonight," he admitted, "But come on upstairs. You both need to pack."

"Oh, Dad," the boy complained, "Where are we going?"

"You and your mother are going on a boat ride," he explained, "And then up to visit your grandfather."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. Maybe Papouli will take you fishing?"

Unimpressed, the boy replied, "I'm a city kid, Dad." Xanatos laughed, holding his son tighter. He then kissed them both and sent them up to pack, saying, "It's no use, son. We're being evacuated."

"Are you leaving us as well, Xanatos?" Angela asked once his family had disappeared. He turned and looked at them fiercely.

"Hell no, I'm not going anywhere! And what are you doing up here?" he demanded of Demona.

"We were looking for some gas masks," she replied coolly, "But we couldn't find any." Xanatos shook his head and gave a weak laugh.

"How did I know you would be?" he asked, "And it so happens I've set enough aside for each of your warriors. Come on." Surprised, they followed him to the elevator. It was strange for her to think of Xanatos as a husband and father, particularly one so affectionate. In the years he'd been in charge of her captivity, he'd never mentioned his family to her. Had she not attended his wedding herself and seen the many announcements of the birth of their son, she wouldn't have known he'd had one. She recalled a young man who took great pride in his independence and swore he needed no one and love was the folly of losers and fools. Turning his tremendous confidence, intelligence, and creativity to self-serving cunning, he'd grown into a ruthless villain of a man and she'd always expected him to remain so forever. 'Family Man' was a rather good look on him, she decided.

She and Angela brought crates full of gas masks, as well as protective breastplates, to the courtyard, where they found most of the clan already assembled. Hudson and Bronx were settled inside and Elisa Maza had already returned to her duty. Goliath, who had recovered from his initial reaction to the tragedy, greeted them with relief.

"Forgive me, Adelpha," he pleaded with a humility she knew was genuine, "I was overwhelmed and…" He reached for her shoulders, where he knew he'd wounded her.

"Have I hurt you?" he asked gently.

"You know how quickly my wounds heal," she pointed out as she pulled away from him. She might have been comforted by his touch, had his claws not been all over Elisa Maza minutes earlier.

"That isn't what I meant," he replied.

"Whatever you may have meant, I am not hurt," she lied, "Please protect our daughter and try not to be reckless."

"You have my word," he promised.

"We will protect each other," Angela assured her.

As she watched them disappearing over the parapet, she finally let rage take her over. She screamed as she grabbed the empty crates, flinging them at the stone castle floor until they shattered. She made such a racket that Bronx came bounding through the courtyard doors to investigate her fury.

"What do you want?" she growled bitterly, "Damn him and damn them all!" Bronx tilted his head curiously and followed her into the dining room, where Owen was dutifully sweeping up the clan's stone skin. He stopped and stared at her, as if trying to figure out a mystery. She stared back at him uneasily. The eerie silence between them remained so long that it actually startled her a bit when he finally spoke.

"Mr. Xanatos wanted you to know that your implants have been turned on again, but he has extended your boundaries to include this entire wing of the castle and the courtyard, since he knew you were already out there."

She thanked him for the information and he went back to sweeping. She meant to return to her rooms as the outdoor air still smelled of death and destruction, but then she heard the sound of the television as she passed Hudson's sitting room. It occurred to her that if anything was to happen with the clan, it might very well be mentioned or shown on the news. She lingered in the doorway, watching the broadcast with disgust.

"You can go in there too," Owen informed her as he passed her with a trash bag full of stone chips, "But he may not know you."

"Not know me?" she repeated, perplexed by the strange claim, "What do you mean?"

"Hudson's often been confused lately," was all the explanation he gave her. She peeked into the room where Hudson lay reclined on a comfortable-looking sofa sectional with an extended leg rest. His expression was blank as he watched the news.

"Come in, Lass," he called suddenly and she did as he asked. He didn't speak or turn to look at her as she perched herself on the opposite end of the sofa. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Do you know me, Hudson?"

"Of course I know you, my daughter," he said warmly as he turned and smiled at her and gestured for her to move closer, "Come. T'is a good long while I've been waiting for you." She hesitated, unconvinced that he wasn't senile and recognizing in her, a long gone memory. Still, she was too uncomfortable with the potential answer to investigate further. She leant quietly on the edge of the sofa, watching the broadcast and hoping she wasn't going to hear any news of the clan.

"Come, sit here beside me," he beckoned again, and as Bronx had already claimed the area of the sofa beside him, she moved to crouch on the floor beside his outstretched legs. His claw came to rest on her hair, stroking her gently.

"T'is a horrible tragedy," he said of the images before them, "But I could not be prouder of my warriors." His words made her ache.

"I'm sorry," she whispered so quietly that she half thought his aging ears wouldn't hear her.

"What's that, Lass?" he asked. She took his claw in her own, sitting up to look at him.

"I know I've dishonored you. I've never been what you needed from me. I always hoped that if I tried hard enough, you would eventually see something worthy in me even if I couldn't live by the ways you taught me. You were always so patient with me and…I've done nothing but fail you. I hate it."

"You've always fought a different battle than the others, my daughter," he replied gently, "And I was often proud of you for it. And as long as you are still fighting, you haven't failed anyone. May you always know that."

Still clutching his claw, she lay her head back on the sofa. It occurred to her that she spent entirely too much mental energy worrying about whether she was Demona or Adelpha. Those names were of very little consequence. It was titles such as Mother, Daughter, Dad, Lover, and Sister that had real meaning. Perhaps that was why the elders, in their wisdom, had never seen fit to name them?

"I'm glad you came to me tonight, Lass," he told her, "I'd hoped I'd be seeing you soon."

Hours passed, and she was comforted by the fact that she saw no mention of the clan on the television. She hoped that indicated that they were keeping their promise to her. At last, Bronx stirred and cocked his head to listen, then bounded joyfully out of the room.

"It seems they've returned," Hudson commented with a sigh, and a minute later, Brooklyn appeared in the doorway, looking understandably cross. Catching sight of her, he snapped angrily, "You aren't supposed to be in there!"

"Nonsense, Lad," Hudson argued, "This is exactly where she ought to be."

"Get out here," he ordered and she rose and followed him through the corridor toward the elevators that would lead her back to her rooms. She assumed that Maza had already informed him of her misadventure that morning and he was leading her toward the promised punishment of solitary confinement, so she was surprised when he hit the wrong button in the elevator.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"To the gym."

"What for?"

"It's Tuesday, isn't it? Time for our training session and the air outside is not conducive to it." She laughed in a dark tone.

"Your dedication is admirable, but I think you could let that slide tonight. I'm sure you've gotten plenty of valuable experience, trying to save humanity from itself." His eyes were tired, but darkened with rage and pain.

"No. I need this," he replied. And it seemed to her that he must, for never before had he worked her so hard. He came at her again and again with such force that it took all she had to evade taking a full-on beatdown. After this had gone on for some time, she felt inclined to remind him that it was only supposed to be training; an admonishment he completely ignored.

"Enough," she growled as he tackled her, striking her relentlessly, even after she raised her arms in defeat. Even then, he caught her by the throat, choking her until she feared she would lose consciousness.

"Well, you've gotten what you wanted at last, haven't you?" he roared bitterly at her, "You wanted us to know the evils of humanity so we could share in your hatred! And here we are! It doesn't get more evil than this! Are you happy?" After screaming this in her face, he finally released her and she quickly rose, clutching her throat and gasping for breath.

"My friend," she whispered between gasps, "I'm afraid that even now, you still don't know half of what humanity is capable of. This catastrophe is only shocking in its effectiveness and the complete lack of defense against it. The murder of a few thousand civilians has never troubled any human warlord in their quest for power, nor will it ever."

"It certainly doesn't trouble you, does it?" he accused her.

"No," she admitted without hesitation, "It does not. I would see humanity wiped entirely off the face of the earth, with or without my assistance, and it would not trouble me." Brooklyn snarled in disgust, clenching his fists as if he would strike her again."

"But," she added, "I do not rejoice in your grief, my brother. I do not wish to see your souls broken and tormented as mine has been. If I could relieve you of this pain, I would."

"I almost believe you," he said calmly, after a moment's consideration.

"It's nearly sunrise," she observed, changing the subject. He rose and she let him help her to her feet.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked him as they made their way toward the elevator.

"Yeah," he admitted, "I do. A little."

"A little," she repeated, "Well, we'll try again next Tuesday."

She followed Brooklyn to meet the others atop the North Tower. Her heart ached a little at the sight of them, for they all looked broken-hearted. None so much as Goliath though, whose handsome features were contorted in despair as he took his place to meet a strange, corrupted daylight.

"How did you get out here?" he asked in a raspy voice that was worn from weeping and coughing. She scowled and looked away from him, frustrated at herself for giving away more information than necessary. She had thought they already knew about her implants being shut off and her escaping. Apparently, the detective had kept her promise not to tell him about it that night and Xanatos and Owen had kept quiet as well.

"It's a long story, Goliath," Xanatos said, coming from behind her and placing his hand on her shoulder, "But nothing to be concerned about tonight."

The sun rose and she endured the painful transformation into her human form. As she stepped back to support herself on the stone parapet, her human hand landed on something soft. She looked down and was relieved to find a small Mets sweatshirt laying there; A message left to reassure her that the child of Oberon was safe and would be coming back to her. As she lifted it, a pearly sphere rolled out of the oversized front pocket and into her hand.

"Where did that come from?" Xanatos asked her wearily.

"It was just laying here on the parapet," she told him truthfully.

"I'll take it," he said and she handed it to him.

"Let's get you back to your rooms and get those boundaries turned back on. I've got some crucial meetings to attend, but there's no reason you can't at least get some rest."

She glanced down at the fairy's gift in her hand. As Xanatos headed inside, she walked over to Goliath's stone form. He was hunched over, in an expression of grief, not unlike the one he'd taken that night centuries ago, when he'd been frozen in an endless sleep. She placed the sweet dream just inside his claw, not quite sure what good it could do him, but somehow knowing it it would. Then she followed Xanatos inside the castle.