When he lets go of her, she steps back until the corner of the doorway presses into her shoulder blade. He looks like he did in the nightmare, broken and defeated. She did this to him, her doubts and fears as efficient as the nightmare-Devil's evil intentions and horrible weapons. And now he won't even look at her, because she's a monster and not the little girl she appears to be, and now he knows it. Because hurting an angel is something only a monster could do.

She's crying again, but this time she swipes the tears away before they can get very far. She won't make him comfort her, not after what he's already done for her.

"Yes," she says quietly. What else can she say? She presses her lips together, then makes herself turn away and climb back into bed. The impulse to hide beneath the covers is strong, but she resists, because that would be a little girl thing to do and she can't hide from this, anyway. "I'm sorry," she says, hating the way her voice cracks and staring fixedly down at her own lap. "You don't have to stay." She's certain he doesn't want to.