Brooklyn's clan wasn't coming.
When he woke up that night he had a feeling of dread and depression, and he didn't really remember why. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken up from his stone sleep and felt drained. He just wanted to let his stone sleep reclaim him, and he didn't want it to let him go.
It took Brooklyn several minutes to just push through his mental haze and remember where he was. When he did he remembered what had happened last night, and he wished that he could just forget.
He hoped in vain that it was just a horrible dream. His wings didn't hurt, but when he stopped to actually focus on them he realized they didn't feel quite right either. Brooklyn had to take several minutes to steel himself before he tried to spread his wings out. It didn't hurt, but it didn't work either, and it felt incredibly wrong.
It felt like someone had taken his limb and just cut off all control he had over three quarters of it. He had to put so much more energy into just trying to lift his wings, and they still didn't work.
Brooklyn felt hollow inside. If his talons weren't filed down and practically useless he could claw at his chest to try to dig out the unbearable pain that was building up inside and spreading.
He wanted to wrap his wings around himself to give just the hint of comfort, but when he tried to do just that simple action he found he couldn't. His wings wouldn't move. That was the final straw. Brooklyn hunched in on himself and let out a short sob. He really couldn't remember when he'd last sobbed and cried like a child. He didn't start bawling. He felt too numb for that. But he felt too shattered to hold it all in.
And there was nobody around to tell him that he was acting like a child. The only one here was her, and she would be unimpressed with him no matter what he did.
"Does it hurt?" She asked, and with his eyes closed Brooklyn could almost pretend that she was the gargoyle she had once been, and not the monster she had become.
Brooklyn didn't answer. Why should he? But Demona wasn't one for giving up.
"Brooklyn," The patience in her voice was what made Brooklyn pause and even consider listening to her. "Are you in pain?"
"...No." Brooklyn shuddered. He wiped his eyes. "They feel fine, e-except that they feel so wrong." The feeling in his chest tightened even more and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He whimpered and wrapped his arms around himself. He tried to grip his upper arm, but he couldn't.
"That man is a barbarian." Demona growled. Any hint of compassion or patience in her voice was gone. Brooklyn knew it couldn't last, but he still felt disappointed. "To take away the very things that make someone a gargoyle-"
"You sayin' I'm not a gargoyle anymore?" Brooklyn asked numbly. He didn't really care about her answer. His wings and talons didn't make him who he was. He felt crippled without them, and helpless, but he was still Brooklyn.
Demona was quiet for a long moment. "Young one, you are one of the strongest gargoyles I have ever known. Your scars aren't a sign of weakness. They're a testament of your strength."
Brooklyn scoffed. "I've been crippled by a human with a dagger and a shock collar. How is that strength? I didn't even go down fighting. I'm just a pawn to him, and to you, and I don't want to play your sick game anymore." He swallowed thickly. "I just want to go home."
"I'm sure your clan is looking for you even as we speak." Demona said. It was weird to hear her be reassuring. Brooklyn didn't believe a word she said, and not just because she couldn't be trusted.
"It's almost been a week." Brooklyn said. "We always find each other in a matter of hours. If they were going to find me, they would have." He didn't know if they just weren't looking for him for some reason, or if they just couldn't find him, but by now he knew they weren't coming.
He'd tried to escape, and now that was impossible. He couldn't glide. He couldn't climb. Brooklyn wouldn't be surprised if Matthew did something to take away his ability to walk soon. He was stuck here. Trapped in this basement, chained up like a misbehaving pet, and tortured in an attempt to break the most unbreakable gargoyle he had ever met.
He was going to die here. Maybe not today. Maybe not in the next month. Maybe not in the next twenty years. But if he couldn't escape, then this would be all he would know for the rest of his life. And Brooklyn didn't think that Matthew would use him to test Demona much more. He'd only give her another few chances at most. If she didn't bend to his will the way he wanted her to, then he would realize that keeping Brooklyn was a waste, and he would dispose of him.
Brooklyn was terrified of that day, but the numb pain that filled him also embraced it, and that just scared him even more. He wanted to live, but he didn't want to suffer anymore. He didn't want to be tortured for hours at a time, only to wake up as a clean slate to be maimed all over again. He couldn't do it.
The door to the room was opened and Matthew stepped in. He carried a duffel bag with him, and Brooklyn shuddered to think what was in there. For the first time since Matthew had gotten their hands on them his gaze slid right past Demona and he looked right at Brooklyn.
"The two of you seem to think I'm wrong about my little theory about your usefulness." Matthew placed the bag on the ground and started to go through it. "I think today we should figure out just who is right." He looked Brooklyn in the eyes, staring him down. The gargoyle found that he couldn't look away.
"I'll give you a choice. Do you want to see, or do you want me to blindfold you?" Matthew asked. Brooklyn didn't need to think of the answer.
"Blindfold." He said. It would be frightening to not know what was coming or when, but Brooklyn was eager for an escape. He only remembered bits and pieces of Matthew going after his wings. He'd blocked it all out. He wanted to do the same thing tonight. He wanted to retreat into his mind. If he couldn't see, then he wouldn't have any visual distractions.
Matthew pulled out a cloth. It was itchy and uncomfortable, but when he tied it tightly over Brooklyn's eyes it did its job. Brooklyn couldn't see, and he could already let go and feel himself slipping.
"Now, Demona, let me make one thing perfectly clear to you." Matthew said. "This game has one easy rule. You can stop it at any time. All you have to do is admit I'm right. If you don't, I'll go until dawn. Even if its body doesn't last that long, I won't stop until the sun rises.
Brooklyn whimpered. "You're going to kill me?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Matthew said. There was a cracking sound that made Brooklyn flinch. "We have all night ahead of us. Why don't we just see how it goes?"
Brooklyn retreated into his mind. The blindfold made it so easy. He wasn't chained up in a human's basement. He wasn't being tortured. Those weren't his screams that he was hearing. How could they be when he was far from here?
In Brooklyn's mind he was back in Scotland. The whole clan was there, including Angela and Elisa, as well as his other rookery brothers and sisters that he had tried so hard to not think about. He hadn't realized how much he missed them. He never let himself think of the siblings he had lost. He didn't know if he'd be able to function from day to day if he thought about them.
He didn't feel the expected pain of grief. He was safe here. He was surrounded by everybody who cared about him. What did he have to worry about? So what if his ears were ringing with the sound of screams, and he felt like he couldn't breathe? So what if he kept on feeling flashes of pain that would hang him back to a harsh world of hurt? His family was right there, and they would soon pull him back under their safe protection.
It was almost perfect, but there was something missing. He could almost ignore it, but it was just obvious enough to make him feel uneasy. He just wanted to pretend that everything was fine, but then Angela took his hand. Brooklyn couldn't actually feel her. He didn't feel anything physical. He wouldn't let himself, because if he felt anything at all it would be pain.
"You wish she was here." Angela said, and Brooklyn's heart about stopped. He didn't want to talk about this with Angela. As soon as he thought that he realized that it wasn't Angela by his side, but Lexington. One of his closest siblings.
"You miss her." Lex said, and Brooklyn was just a little confused. He didn't miss her, because she was right there. He'd just seen her. He'd just talked to her. But when he looked she was gone, and in the blink of an eye so were all of the others. Brooklyn could see them gliding off towards the horizon. They wanted him to join them. He was desperate to follow, but his wings…
Brooklyn felt a sharp pain and a bitter darkness in his chest, but he pushed it down. He didn't want to face it. He didn't want to think about it. He could glide. Of course he could. What gargoyle would he be if he couldn't. He just wasn't because he was scared to fall. Just like when he was younger.
He shouldn't need help. He was too old for that, but he was scared to try on his own, and he didn't want to be left behind. But there was only one person that he could ask for help. One person that he'd ever trusted that way.
Brooklyn muttered a word. One that he thought he had long-since forgotten. It was an old language. It had been old a thousand years ago. Brooklyn didn't know what this language was, he just knew that it was something the gargoyles used to speak to each other when there weren't humans around to get in their way.
He couldn't remember the meaning of this word. He just knew that it was what he called her, and she always came when he called for her.
When he didn't get a response he could feel himself slipping back to that world of hurt that he was so desperate to get away from. He said the word again. When he still didn't get a response he screamed for her, because the clan was just getting further away and he didn't want to be left behind. He couldn't be alone. He needed her.
"Hush, young one." She said. He turned and saw her. It wasn't the Demona that she had become. She was the way he remembered from the past. The way he had been longing for her to be.
She gathered him into her arms, and suddenly he felt half his age. He sank into her gentle touch, too relieved and content to question why he could feel her when he hadn't been able to feel the others. It didn't really matter why. He was just glad that he wasn't alone.