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I heard on the radio once... somebody messes you up when you're little. Hurts you. And for the rest of your life, you pass it on. And you can't help it, because it's all you know. Do you believe that? That you can get so screwed up that you can't —

"But that's what demons do — the price must be a memory. Flay the skin from my bones and feed it to your hounds and the price will still be a memory. Bargain with a thousand demons and the price will be the same."

( Oh, Tim. How sweet of you to bring me chocolates. How did you know it was my birthday...? By the way, there is something I've been meaning to tell you... that dragon we met in Hell? That was you. We had a lovely chat while you were out smashing mountains. he told me how he'd sold his memories of childhood to all kinds of interesting demons, and how he loved me so much that he'd /xeroxed/ me hundreds of times, and yelled at me, hurt me, and killed me, and given me to Vuall so I could learn to be a perfect little wife. Of course, he said, you don't /have/ to turn out to be him. In fact, he said he'd be rather surprised if you did-- )

( Tim's story. )

( Molly's story. )

( Tim's parents. )

It was funny. Tim had been relatively certain that the last time he'd been in America, the greater portion of it hadn't looked like Hell ( Read more... )