Demona had experienced torture. She had suffered pain that would drive someone insane. If it weren't for the healing she used to get during her stone sleep, she would have lingering aches and scars. It was just through her own vicious nature and desperation for survival that she had never been hurt enough to have scars.
She had been careful ever since she'd seen Hudson's injury. She knew he was a capable fighter even with his blind eye, but it had forced him into retirement and even now he was little more than an old man who sat around until he couldn't avoid it anymore. He could have kept going for years, but his own fear and wounded pride had held him back, and he'd never been the same since. Demona had always been afraid of that happening to her.
She didn't even bother sparing such a concern for Brooklyn. She desperately wanted to worry about how his life would look in the future, and the risk that he would wallow in his injuries and never mentally recover.
Right now though, Demona thought it would be a mercy if he lived long enough to get to that state. Matthew was doing his best to kill him as slowly and painfully as possible.
Demona tried to act indifferent. She tried to tell herself she didn't care, but every time Matthew made another cut, or broke another bone, or injected some horrifying serum into Brooklyn's veins, she felt like something inside of her broke.
She didn't let it show. She couldn't let Matthew know that he had gotten to her. She told herself that this was the best for Brooklyn. Eventually Matthew would back off, and he would leave Brooklyn alone. If she made it known that he could be used against her, Matthew would just do this over and over again. This was Brooklyn's only chance.
She convinced herself that was the case, but deep down she wondered if she was just scared that if she showed Matthew weakness then he would hurt her worse than he was hurting Brooklyn.
She knew she was selfish. She always had been. If she didn't take care of herself, nobody else would. It had brought her this far, and sometimes her self-preservation was all she had. She lived on through sheer stubbornness and spite.
But Demona couldn't remember the last time she'd had somebody that relied on her. Somebody had had nobody else, and if she didn't step in then they would have nobody either. She had tried to lead Brooklyn down that road, and now that she saw him like this she wished that she never had.
It made her wish that she had never let him get close to her when they'd shared a clan. He deserved far more than her.
Watching Brooklyn, it was clear that he wasn't all there. He was screaming, but he didn't cry or plead. Whenever Matthew paused in what he was doing to switch methods, Brooklyn would go completely still, as though that collar had been used on him. The first few times it happened Demona thought he was unconscious, but then the torture would start again and he would scream and grunt in pain again.
Demona was familiar with distancing oneself mentally from their pain. She'd done it more times than she could care to say. It could be dangerous, but at the same time it could sometimes be the only thing that someone's mind could do to protect their sanity.
While Brooklyn blocked out his own pain, Demona couldn't bring herself to look away. He was here because of her, and the only thing she could do was watch and recognize what she was responsible for.
Matthew didn't so much as glance her way for several hours. He'd set his terms, and unless she gave in he wasn't going to stop. It was a few hours before dawn when he finally met her gaze as he reached for another vial of some unknown serum. She didn't know what poison was in there, but those were the worst. They made Brooklyn's body spasm and seize in unnatural, painful ways. The last serum caused him to start breathing harshly, like someone who had been deprived of air their whole life. And then suddenly he stopped breathing entirely. Demona had been terrified that that had been it. That the serum had finished him off, and that Brooklyn was gone.
He eventually started breathing again, his body relaxing as quickly as it had tightened. He'd gotten better, but that had been hours ago. Demona didn't know if Brooklyn was strong enough to do the same now.
"You know, I think you might be right." Matthew said casually as he prepared the serum and needle. "Your eye has barely twitched all night. You really seem like you don't care."
Demona felt a flare of hope. Maybe all of this would finally end. Matthew had to see how pointless all of this was, and Brooklyn would be left alone.
But Matthew didn't put the needle down. He gave Demona an expectant look. She knew what he wanted, but she couldn't put words to it. Her pride and fear was too strong. It always was. She didn't say a word. Matthew turned away from her, needle in hand. He knelt next to Brooklyn, pulling his hair to expose his neck. He jammed the needle in harshly, and Brooklyn let out a broken whimper.
The whimper could have easily just been nothing more than a pained sound, but Demona's ears twitched when she recognized a word. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she knew that word. It was the old gargoyle language. A tongue that had nearly died out before she'd even been an egg. She could recognize the language when she heard it, but she only recognized a handful of words. This was one of them.
It was a word that young gargoyles used to use for some of their caretakers. It didn't really have a direct translation. It encompassed a lot of things. Teacher. Friend. Guardian. Mentor.
Demona didn't like human traditions, but deep down she had to admit that humans were somehow able to find a word that summed up all of that, and more.
Mother.
Demona felt like she couldn't breathe when she heard Brooklyn say that ancient word. She wanted to tell herself that she imagined it, and then he said it again, more breathlessly than before. He wasn't growing tense and breathing harshly the way he had before, even though it was the same serum. His body was too weak for that, and Demona was scared that he was skipping right to the part where he stopped breathing, and that he wouldn't start up again.
And maybe Brooklyn was scared of the same thing. He was calling for her. He was hurting, and scared, and dying, and all he wanted was his mother.
Matthew pushed the needle further in, injecting more of the poison into Brooklyn's body. The gargoyle didn't react at all. He didn't shudder, or whine. He was completely still and silent, and Demona couldn't take it anymore.
"Stop!" She said. She wished she could reach out to him, but these bars kept her confined. "Please, stop." She didn't know if she had ever pleaded to anybody like this, let alone a human, but she was tired, horrified, and desperate. She couldn't watch this any longer.
Matthew paused, but he didn't pull the needle out. He raised an eyebrow at Demona. He wanted more. She didn't want to give it to him, but more than that she didn't want to face the consequences if she didn't.
She lowered her head and tucked her wings in, making herself as non-threatening as possible.
"You were right." Demona had thought that she had killed every part of her that was desperate for a clan. The parts of her that put those under her care first. She hadn't really had a choice but to get rid of it, but Matthew had seen what Demona and Brooklyn could not, and he'd pulled it back up to the surface. "Please, don't hurt my young one."
Because Brooklyn was hers, and he always had been. She'd been fond of all of the little ones, but Brooklyn was the one that drew out the guardian instincts. She couldn't help but notice that he had needed a little more attention than his siblings, or at least a different kind of attention, and she hadn't thought twice before taking on that responsibility.
She had taught him to fight like a gargoyle, rather than a human. She got him to stand up for himself, even if he sometimes fell back on his old habits of being shy. She had been the one to finally get him to open his wings and glide without having a fear of falling, because she had always been right there to catch him.
She hadn't been there for so long, but she was there now, and she wasn't going to let him go. Not until she knew that he'd be safe when she did.
Matthew looked far too smug. He released Brooklyn, letting him fall carelessly to the ground. He didn't pull out the serum, but he didn't push it in more. Matthew stepped over Brooklyn and walked towards her. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Demona felt like her heart stopped when he pointed it at Brooklyn, but then Matthew went to the lever in the wall that had activated the bars she was trapped behind. She felt hope alongside the now familiar fear.
"If there's even a hint of funny business, he's dead." Matthew said. Demona nodded. She hadn't even considered taking this opportunity to go after Matthew. He wasn't her concern right now.
Matthew turned off the bars, and Demona rushed forward to be at Brooklyn's side, subconsciously putting herself between him and Matthew. She knelt on the ground and pulled out the needle in his neck. He screamed, calling for her once again, and this time she was able to answer his call.
"Hush, young one." She gently put her arms around him and held him close. She stroked his hair and rocked slightly as he fell against her. He wasn't a child anymore, but he felt so young and small in her arms.
She knew that Matthew was watching them, but she blocked him out. Her full attention was on Brooklyn. She wanted to run her hands through his hair, as it was a motion that many gargoyle youth found comforting, but it was something that Matthew had done to patronize and threaten him. She didn't want to do anything that could remind Brooklyn of that pain, or make him think that he was in danger. He needed comfort.
Brooklyn's breathing was harsh and slow. Sometimes it seemed like he wasn't breathing at all. That was part of the reason why she was holding him so close. If he was pressed against her body, then he could feel every rise and fall his chest made.
He still had that poison in his blood, and it would take time for it to dilute and stop causing him pain. It would take time, and if he was stronger he could wait it out. But Demona didn't know if Brooklyn had the strength or the will to get through those hours of pain.
She could tell that he'd almost given up. Demona wished that she could fight this battle for him, but all she could do was sit here and offer comfort as he struggled. She wasn't good at this kind of thing, and he'd be better off with anybody else, but right now she was all he had, and it would have to be good enough.
"Come back to me, little one." She carefully untied the blindfold. He'd been protecting himself by hiding from the pain, but if he didn't address it then it would overtake him. His body would give up because his mind didn't know that it was safe to keep fighting.
Brooklyn kept his eyes closed tight. He didn't respond to any of her questions or encouragement. He just laid there, clinging to her. Demona kept trying, because she had no choice. She just talked to him.
Nothing changed for several long minutes, but eventually Brooklyn blinked and turned his head, looking at her. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused, and she didn't think he really understood that she was there. This was progress though, and she would take what she could get.
"Hurts." Brooklyn muttered. He buried his head against her. "Everything hurts."
"I know." Demona said. "But you need to keep fighting."
Brooklyn groaned and shook his head slightly. Demona frowned and tightened her grip on him. "No, don't you give up like that. You're stronger than that, and I'm not going to let you give up when you've come so far."
"Why?" Brooklyn whined. "It's hard."
She leaned down and nuzzled the top of his head. "I know." She said, quietly enough for Matthew to not hear. This wasn't for him. This was for Brooklyn. "I know it's hard. I know it hurts. I know it will be so much easier to close your eyes and make the pain stop forever, but you still have your whole life ahead of you."
Brooklyn shook his head. He didn't believe her. What life could he hope to have? Matthew had made it nearly impossible for him to escape on his own. His clan had shown no signs of coming. Demona was all he had, and she hadn't given him any reason to believe that she cared about what happened to him.
He didn't have any hope left. Demona could get him out of here, and she wasn't going to give up until she did, but she couldn't do a thing if he gave up before dawn. His body would heal, and he'd be at least a little closer to being okay. She could take care of everything else, but this first step was something he needed to do, and she needed to give him a reason to do so.
"Think about your clan." Demona said. "You're Goliath's second. If you won't fight for yourself, could you fight for them?" She would rather he fought for himself, just for the sake of his own life, but if this was the only way to get through to him then she would do what was necessary.
Brooklyn's wings twitched as he tried to move them. "I can't lead like this." Demona disagreed, but she wasn't the best person to talk some sense into him. Hudson would understand Brooklyn much more. Demona just needed to make sure that Brooklyn had the chance to talk to him about it.
"I have a plan for that too." Demona said. "I swear on the stones of our ancestors that if you just fight through the night, I will personally see to it that you will glide again."
Brooklyn huffed, actually sounding amused. Demona felt like a weight was lifted off her chest. Maybe Brooklyn wasn't as far gone as she'd been worried he was. If he could laugh about his pain, just a little bit, then he could move on.
"You can't promise that." Brooklyn already sounded a little more like himself. He was weak, but he was inching away from the point of no return.
"You should know better than anybody that I can accomplish anything when I put my mind to it." Demona said. "If I say you will glide, then you will glide."
Brooklyn snorted and closed his eyes again, relaxing against her. "If you say so." He clearly didn't believe her, but she didn't need his belief. She just needed him to try.
"I do say so." Demona said. Her eyes darted to the needle that she'd tossed aside. She intended to keep her promise. First thing's first, she needed to get them out of there.