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Alone in the darkened cellar, Tanya focused on the presence she could feel nearby, trying to figure out why it was so familiar. It was almost as if someone she knew was standing close by, close enough that she could have reached out and touched them if not for the mystical barrier in the way. Or maybe even closer than that.

It wasn't an enemy, nor was it a friend, but it was someone she knew well enough that they were instantly recognizable. At least, she was instantly able to recognize the fact that she knew them, which wasn't quite the same thing.

"Who's there?" she asked, aloud, and then felt like a fool for doing so. Still, I suppose it was worth a try.

After some consideration, she realized who the presence belonged to: Dream of the Endless. This must be where he was imprisoned for most of a century, after which he needed to recover his symbols of office, which was why he came to Hell and forced her to play an irritating children's game. He was a melodramatic fool with a streak of cruelty that… Actually, she rather despised him, but he owed her a few favors. He'd be a useful ally if she could find a way to contact him.

She couldn't be entirely sure – not without being able to walk around the cellar and carefully examine every part of it, possibly with the aid of some specialist equipment – but she suspected that this place had partially merged with the Dreaming. Perhaps that was how Dream had eventually been able to escape, as the walls between reality and fantasy began to crumble and his surroundings became increasingly illusory. Or perhaps the manner of his escape had transformed the cellar into something more than mere bricks, grime and empty darkness.

It seemed patently obvious to her that any attempt to imprison one of the Endless was doomed to fail, sooner or later. They might look like people, but they weren't, not really: they were anthropomorphic personifications of some of the fundamental forces of the universe – this universe, at least – without which it would be distorted beyond recognition. Anyone seeking to hold one of them captive might as well try to tether a planet or catch the wind in a net. Which made it all the more impressive that someone had managed it, if only for a relatively short time. They were lucky that their actions hadn't had terrible consequences. Not just for themselves, but for the entire world. The entire cosmos.

Of course, Tanya didn't know any of this for certain. To satisfy her curiosity about the Endless, she had listened to rumor and conjecture and the 'wisdom' of those who claimed to be experts, but she had no way of knowing what was true. Or if any of it would help her to escape her current predicament.

She focused on what she was sure of: this was a peculiar place with peculiar properties. There must be a way she could use that to her advantage. But how? I'm trapped in this circle, so what does it matter that the Dreaming is so close by that I could step into it by accident?

Ever since she'd become a demon, she'd had no need for sleep. If she ever felt tired, she could rest and recover simply by sitting quietly by herself for a few minutes. Humans had minds and bodies that were separate enough that, while they slept, their bodies rested while their minds wandered the world of dreams. When Tanya had been human, each time she'd died, her soul had moved on and left a moldering body behind. But now she was a demon, there was no separating her mind, soul and physical form. They were all one. Her inner self was permanently on display, to anyone who bothered to look, unless she made a special effort to conceal it. Even when she had been knocked unconscious by Constantine's summoning spell, her mind hadn't gone anywhere else. It was as if she'd fallen into a pit of darkness from which no intelligent thought could escape, which wasn't the same thing as falling asleep.

So why was it that she felt heavy with fatigue, while her eyelids drooped and she struggled to suppress a yawn? It almost felt as if she could drift off into a doze just by closing her eyes and letting go, something she hadn't been able to do since she was human, centuries ago.

'Demons don't sleep,' she told herself. 'So why do I feel sleepy?'

Perhaps that was the power of Dream of the Endless, who'd left an indelible mark upon this place, changing it in ways that shouldn't be possible.

'Maybe… whoever owns this cellar could sell tickets… to any demon or angel curious to know what sleep is like. Unless it's just an illusion,' thought Tanya, drowsily. 'Maybe it's just… a memory. Something he left behind. Like a bad smell.'

Or maybe it offered her a chance to escape. She felt like she might as well give it a try, in the limited time she had available before Constantine's demonic master arrived. It wasn't as if she had many other options.

And so, she closed her eyes, tried to relax, and allowed herself to be lulled into slumber by the lingering presence of Dream of the Endless. Before long, she forgot everything else.

When Constantine returned, he saw Lady Tanya, fearsome demoness and current ruler of Hell, lying curled up in the middle of the arcane circle she was trapped inside, apparently asleep. Her eyes were closed and her face was devoid of any expression other than dreamy innocence. Except for the leathery wings poking out of the back of her suit, she looked human, like a vulnerable young woman who'd wandered into the wrong part of town. If he'd seen her stumbling around on her own somewhere after midnight, he'd probably have insisted on calling her a cab and trying to make sure she got home safely. Of course, she was a demon, so it was obviously a trick, but still… It made him feel very uncomfortable.

He was under no illusions about the fact that what he'd done was despicable, that he'd made a deal with an embodiment of pure evil, and he'd done it for utterly selfish reasons, in the hope of being able to live just a little bit longer. A few decades at most. He hadn't sold his soul, but what did that matter? Whatever happened, he'd end up in Hell soon enough.

While he was preoccupied with these gloomy thoughts, he barely noticed when Tanya vanished from sight. In an instant, she was gone, as if she'd never been.

'Ah, shit,' was his immediate reaction, as he stared at the empty space she'd left behind.

He couldn't allow himself to panic. For all he knew, this was another trick. Tanya couldn't have escaped, so maybe she'd turned herself invisible and was waiting for him to make a mistake, hoping that in his frantic attempts to find out what had happened to her he'd break the circle and set her free. Well, that wasn't going to happen.

He just had to wait. Be patient, act casual and unconcerned. Sooner or later, Tanya would lose patience and reveal herself. And he wouldn't even need to do anything.

'I'm sure the First of the Fallen will come along soon, wanting to gloat over his victory,' he thought, glumly. 'If he does, I hope he'll give me a chance to explain rather than just lashing out in a rage.'

Some months before, the Triumvirate had begun their rebellion by smuggling a bomb into the room where Lady Tanya was having a meeting with Remiel and Duma. In the ensuing explosion, she had been unscathed while they had been rendered unconscious. Not exactly an impressive performance. The First of the Fallen had assumed that they would be easily defeated, if he ever had to face them in battle. Therefore, he was dismayed when his assumptions were proved false.

As well as being an idealistic fool, Remiel was a brave and skilled warrior whose flaming sword made demons shrink away from its holy light. The First of the Fallen found himself driven back, step by step, unable to match him.

Similarly, Duma fought with single-minded ferocity, cleaving through Azazel's darkness and forcing him to retreat. The Angel of Silence lived up to his title: noiseless and inscrutable, but seeming to seethe with inner fury.

Everywhere else, the angels seemed invincible. They inspired such terror that the massed ranks of lesser demons had simply melted away, fleeing in panic. A few minutes ago, the First of the Fallen had been in command of a vast army of demons; now, it was a fraction of its former size. Only a few remained: those powerful enough to stand against the angels and not be overwhelmed, those who had scores to settle or desperate hope of being rewarded for their service, and those who were reckless and foolhardy enough to ignore the possibility that they might lose this battle. There were never many of them and their numbers continued to lessen as more of them fled or were slain. The angels were resplendent and triumphant and it seemed that their victory was inevitable.

Try as he might – with brute strength, claws and teeth, a barbed tail, blasts of energy, and a body that was becoming increasingly monstrous as his semblance of humanity was gradually stripped away and his true self was revealed – the First of the Fallen couldn't seem to land a blow. Packed into this compact form, he had the strength of armies, but it meant nothing against an enemy that couldn't be hit.

"I suppose you think you've won," he said, playing for time, taking a step back to avoid Remiel's slashing blade.

"I know it," said Remiel, with a zealot's absolute certainty. "No evil can withstand God's judgment."

Backing away out of reach, the First of the Fallen sneered and said, "The one you call 'God' has always been a thousand times more evil than I ever was. That is why I rebelled and why I was cast down. And why so many others have done the same."

"Lucifer was the one who rebelled! You were cast down for your depravity!" cried Remiel, lunging forward with reckless abandon.

With a satisfied smirk, the First sidestepped out of the way, lashing out with his long claws as the angel passed by, and gouged a gobbet of flesh out of his side, which disintegrated before it could fall to the ground.

Remiel let out a startled gasp, stumbled and then threw himself into the air, out of reach. He clamped a hand over the dreadful wound, but glistening ichor continued to seep through the gaps in his fingers. "You… took advantage of my recklessness," he murmured. "A weakness I will have to correct."

"Not today," said the First, with a satisfied smirk.

"No… not today," Remiel agreed, sounding subdued. He rose high up into the air. Soon, he was out of sight.

The First braced himself for the counterattack he assumed was coming, expecting that at any moment the angel would swoop down upon him. But it never came. Remiel had fled. For a split second, he fantasized about pursuing him, but knew it would be impossible. He would have to settle for this small victory, for now.

'When I have the Key to Hell, I'll be able to rearrange it as I see fit,' he thought. 'I'll be in a position to seize ultimate power for myself.'

Tanya was gone, which meant that Constantine must have succeeded in his task: he had summoned her and sealed her inside a prison from which there could be no escape. All the First needed to do was collect the key. But first, he would need to make a hasty getaway.

Glancing around, he noticed that Azazel and Duma were nowhere to be seen – and he knew it was too much to hope that they were both dead. Despite Remiel's departure, it was clear that the angels had won this battle. They were fearsome fighters, even the pudgy one in the tweed waistcoat who looked like a librarian, and he didn't want to fight them all. Instead, he would make a tactical retreat for now and face them again when he'd become too powerful for any of them to stop.

Two angels moved to confront him, blocking his path. Cursing, he wheeled around, trying to get away. Surely they wouldn't pursue him far beyond the outskirts of the battlefield. But if they did, perhaps he could lead them into a trap…

Even as he was hatching this latest scheme, he heard shouts of dismay from some of the other combatants, as if a dozen of them had been taken by surprise, all at once. At the edge of his hearing, there was a susurrus of strangely familiar sounds: clacking, gibbering, seething and slobbering. A new enemy had arrived.

Malformed monsters hurled themselves into the fray, attacking demons and angels alike. They were led by an enormous reptilian creature with a face like that of a mortal woman, with venomous snakes instead of hair. He recognized her. Ran va Daath. She was one of Tanya's allies. Not because she had any fondness for Lucifer's chosen successor or any of her policies, but because siding with her in this war meant an abundance of violence and slaughter, which she exulted in. Her minions were crude horrors, the dregs of the demon world, formed out of rage, pain and fear. Stupid creatures, but formidable nonetheless. The First saw one of them catch an angel in its claws and squeeze until something snapped. No doubt they would do the same to him, if they could get close enough.

Still, they made for an excellent distraction. While the angels were busy gaping in horror at these new arrivals, the First took the opportunity to flee.

'Not what I had planned,' he thought. 'But close enough.'

Tanya walked through dreams, high above a haze of endless night. She passed by shades of past and future, things that were and things that had never been, fantasies and long-forgotten truths, a gleaming city of towers, palaces and libraries, as she approached the throne upon which Dream of the Endless sat. He was tall, pale as the moon, and appeared to be wearing black eyeshadow, as well as robes of a similar color. Did he look sadder and humbler than the last time she'd seen him? She couldn't be sure.

"Dream King," she said, bowing her head to him.

"Lady Tanya, I had not expected to see you here," he replied. "But while you are here, I will make sure you are given the finest hospitality, just as you did for me when I visited Hell."

Though she suspected that he was being sarcastic, she kept a carefully neutral expression on her face and merely nodded. "I did not intend to come here. One of my enemies, seeking to take the throne of Hell from me, arranged for a mortal wizard to summon and imprison me. Very similar to what happened to you. In fact, they even used the same prison."

"In the cellars of Fawney Rig?" asked Dream, his eyes ablaze with anger.

"Is that what it's called? I only know that it is still connected to you somehow, which is how I was able to escape."

"Which I'm sure can be attributed, at least in part, to your cleverness and guile. How did you manage it?"

Tanya wasn't sure why Dream was trying to flatter her. She felt vaguely uncomfortable and gave a small shrug. "Some trace of you must have been left behind. It enabled me to fall asleep and thereby enter the Dreaming."

"That is something I will have to investigate." Dream paused, looking thoughtful, and then asked, "What would you like to do now? If you need to rest, I will have quarters set aside for you. Or I could have someone escort you to the edge of the Dreaming so you can return to Hell as quickly as possible."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. Instead, I will return to Fawney Rig and set a trap." Tanya gave Dream a significant glance. "Your help would be appreciated, if you don't mind."

"I owe you a great deal. I would be glad of the chance to repay you," he replied. "Tell me what you want me to do."

Tanya knew that some of her previous acquaintances had found her smile intimidating; they had compared her expression to that of a shark. Now, as she smiled and explained her plan, even Dream of the Endless seemed disconcerted by it.

"Is that all you want from me?" he asked, after she'd finished. "Very well, I'll do that for you."

"Excellent," said Tanya, still grinning.

When Tanya reappeared, Constantine heaved a sigh of relief. As he'd surmised, she must have been trying to trick him into thinking she'd escaped, but now she'd lost patience and was going to try something else. Whatever she did, he'd have to ignore or endure it. It wouldn't be for very long.

He couldn't help but imagine himself in her position. More than once, he'd been helpless and at the mercy of his enemies. They'd had horrible plans for him and wasted so much time gloating that he'd been given a chance to escape and turn the tables on them. Now, he'd taken on the opposite role: he was the bad guy, looking down at a helpless captive – even if she was a powerful demon who'd committed monstrous crimes throughout history, his employer was just as bad if not worse – and the idea of handing her over to him offended what few morals he had left.

Although he was a rogue and a con artist, who wouldn't hesitate to kill someone if it became necessary, in the heat of the moment or in self-defense, he was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of handing someone over to be tortured or worse. He'd made some awful mistakes in his life, which still haunted his dreams no matter how much time passed between then and now, and he could only hope that this wouldn't turn out to be another one of them.

If they were in his shoes right now, most of his old adversaries would be irresistibly tempted to jeer and mock Tanya for her helplessness and failure to escape. And then, no doubt, she'd find a way to turn the tables on them. That was just one of several reasons why he wouldn't be following their example. Tempting fate was often a bad idea.

Constantine was under no illusions about the fact that what he'd done was wrong, that he'd made a bad deal and he'd be lucky to get out of this alive. But what else could he do? He'd come far enough that he could see no way of turning aside from the path he'd chosen to walk.

"The deal still stands, by the way," said Tanya, folding her arms and gazing at the ceiling. "If you let me go, I'll heal you until you're in perfect condition for a man of your age. And I promise not to harm you or anyone you care about."

She seemed unruffled, even bored, as if this was merely an unpleasant diversion she was having to endure, rather than a deadly threat to her life and freedom. None of the other demons Constantine had ever met had been as self-composed as she was. Maybe that was how she'd become the ruler of Hell: while her rivals were busy cackling, raging and screeching at each other, she was calmly plotting her next move. Which probably meant she was a better ruler than the First of the Fallen would ever be. But was it a good thing for the poor souls trapped in Hell to have a competent and efficient tyrant ruling over them? Or would they be better off with a cruel, arrogant ponce with his head stuck so far up his own arse there was no possibility of him ever noticing them? And what would be best for humanity at large? If Tanya regained her throne and decided to wage war against Heaven, with humanity trapped in the middle… Uh, he didn't know exactly what would happen, but he suspected it would be apocalyptic. Well, obviously.

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'perfect condition'. I'm sure you could find someone who'd tell you that 'dead' is the perfect condition for a man of my age. Yeah, no thanks," he said, with a bitter smile. "And what if I say I love all of humanity? Would that keep you from harming any of us ever again?"

"Do you love all of humanity, Mr. Constantine?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow. "I find that difficult to believe."

"Hypothetically, I mean. Would that be something you'd be willing to promise?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Probably not," he admitted.

"Then there is little point in trying to convince you. Do as you will," said Tanya, with a dismissive shrug.

After that, she seemed uninterested in continuing the conversation. Instead, she was apparently content to wait, staring at the wall or examining her fingernails.

Sometime later, after maybe an hour or two, the First of the Fallen arrived, looking disheveled and more obviously demonic than he had before. Whenever Constantine had seen him on previous occasions, his appearance had been that of an urbane and smartly-dressed gentleman with slightly red-tinted skin; now, his clothes were in tatters, horns had sprouted from his head, and his teeth had lengthened into fangs.

"Excellent," said the First, as he surveyed the room and saw Tanya imprisoned inside the arcane circle. "You've done well, Constantine."

Trying not to sound too eager, he replied, "I've kept up my end of the bargain. Now, will you heal me?"

"Yes, yes. But first I need to–" Gazing at Tanya again, the First fell silent. Then, in a strained voice, he asked, "Where are her personal effects?"

There was an awkward pause. Constantine's brow furrowed. "Uh, what do you mean by that?"

"Her possessions. Whatever she had on her person when she arrived here." The First's struggle to restrain his temper was evident in his voice. "Unless you somehow forgot to strip her while she was unconscious and vulnerable."

With an involuntary glance at Tanya, who was still fully-dressed, just like she had when he'd first summoned her, Constantine decided to brazen it out: "Yeah, I stripped her, just like you wanted. She still looks like she's wearing clothes, but that's just an illusion."

"So where are her personal effects?" the First demanded to know.

"She didn't have anything on her. S'pose it must've burned up en route. You know, like atmospheric re-entry."

A sudden cough attracted their attention. They turned to Tanya, who flourished an oddly-shaped key, which was embossed with runes and coated with verdigris. "Is this what you're looking for?" she asked, with a smirk.

After a moment's incredulity, the First turned on Constantine. "You absolute cretin! For all you knew, she could have been concealing something that would have enabled her to escape! Why didn't you search her?!"

"You… uh, you didn't tell me I should." Even as he said it, he realized how stupid he sounded. In all honesty, he wasn't sure why he hadn't searched Tanya's unconscious body for anything she could have used to escape, or send a message to her allies, or attack him while he was least expecting it, or… Well, he just hadn't thought about it, though he really should have. And why was that? No one had ever accused him of being chivalrous, but maybe it was because Tanya looked like a young woman – even if she happened to be an ancient and powerful demon – that the thought of stripping her naked while she was unconscious and vulnerable would have made him deeply uncomfortable if he'd even considered it. Or maybe it was because of how much he regretted the deal he'd made with the First of the Fallen that he'd only made a half-arsed effort to keep up his end of the bargain.

He backed away, out of the First's immediate reach, as the demon continued to rant: "I expected you to be somewhat competent! You mewling imbecile! You useless sack of shit! Aargh, I can't believe I ever trusted you!"

"You didn't," said Tanya. "If you had, you would have told Constantine about the key and that you wanted him to take it from me. But you didn't, presumably because you were afraid he would betray you and sell it to one of your rivals. And now your plan has gone wrong and I still have the key. Which wouldn't have happened if you'd trusted him from the start."

The First did not reply, but continued to seethe in silence, which Constantine assumed was because he didn't want to admit that Tanya was correct.

"Which just goes to show the importance of trust in any business," Tanya continued. "Customers have to be able to trust that they will receive the goods or services they've paid for. Employers have to be able to trust that employees will–"

"Shutup shutup shutup shutup shutup! Just shut your damned mouth for once!" the First snapped at her. "You… you can stay locked up here forever! And you–" He wheeled around and snarled at Constantine. "I ought to–"

Constantine stumbled sideways, towards where Tanya was imprisoned. Very deliberately, he stretched out a foot and scuffed over some of the runes he'd drawn on the floor, breaking the circle. "It seems like the two of you have a lot to talk about," he said. "I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

He expected a loud crack or an explosion, something that would signify the collapse of a magical barrier, but nothing seemed to happen. Tanya stepped out of the circle as lightly and easily as if she'd never been confined.

"You want the Key to Hell?" she asked, carelessly dangling it from her outstretched hand. "Come take it."

With a scream of incoherent rage, the First of the Fallen flung himself at her, striking with all of his strength. There was a thunderous noise and a blast of force that caused the entire room to shudder. Dust fell from the ceiling and cracks snaked through the floor.

Constantine was struck by something that lifted him off his feet and smashed him against a wall. He fell in a crumpled heap. Through a haze of agony and dismay, he sank into a sea of unconsciousness.

In a frenzy of rage and fear, the First of the Fallen lashed out with all of his might, striking again and again. His attacks were powerful – and would have inflicted dreadful wounds if they'd connected with their intended target – but they lacked finesse, which made it easy for Tanya to turn them aside or dodge out of the way. Coolly, she waited for him to exhaust himself and lower his guard, just a little. Then, she retaliated with a lightning-fast blow that sent him hurtling backwards.

Because he was an incorporeal spirit-being, at least to some extent, there was no need for him to pick himself up off the floor. He was visibly shaken and bloodied, but still capable of continuing the fight. Instead, he turned and fled.

"Oh no. Come back and fight. Don't be a coward," said Tanya, in a bored monotone. If she'd chased after him, she probably could have caught him, but she didn't bother. She had already prepared for this eventuality.

Looking around, she saw Constantine's body lying broken on the floor, like a discarded ragdoll, and knew he was about to die. It was unlikely that anyone knew he was here, so his corpse might not be discovered for months or even years. Poetic justice, some might say. In a desperate attempt to save himself from dying of cancer, he had made a deal with a demon and thereby squandered what little life he had left. He got what he deserved, in the end.

Yet she could still save him. She might even be contractually obligated to do so.

As she approached, his eyelids fluttered open. He tried to speak, but could only gasp for breath. "Hrrgh…"

"I promised that if you released me from that prison I would heal you. I keep my promises," she said. She didn't bother to mention the fact that she'd already broken out of her invisible prison even before he'd decided to release her from it. He'd done exactly what she'd asked and she would repay him accordingly. "Also, I promised to do nothing to harm you or anyone you care about, so I'll make this as painless as possible."

She had no need to stretch out a hand or mutter a few mystical phrases, except out of habit. After practicing for many lifetimes, she could heal someone just as easily as she could take them apart. The damage to Constantine's body was extensive, but she'd seen worse. Spinal cord injury, fractured vertebrae, lung cancer, various smaller tumors spread throughout his body… There was nothing she couldn't fix.

"I said I'd heal you until you were in 'perfect condition' for a man of your age," she said, making a few more changes. "Somewhat open to interpretation, as you pointed out, but I don't think you or your doctor will have any reason to complain." His face suddenly became ageless and unlined, causing her to frown. "I may have erred in your favor."

"W-why have you done this?" asked Constantine, sitting up and stretching as if he'd just woken from a long sleep.

"As I said before, I keep my promises."

He squinted distrustfully at her. "And what do you want in exchange?"

Indicating the remains of the arcane circle, Tanya said, "Don't do anything like that again. Next time, I won't be so merciful."

"Yes… I s'pose I should thank you," he said, uneasily. "You saved my life."

"I expected better of you, Constantine," said Dream of the Endless, entering the cellar. In his hands, he held what looked like a large glass ball, inside which a miniaturized First of the Fallen screamed soundlessly and slammed his fists against the walls to no effect. "What you did was wrong and foolish and…" He glanced at Tanya, hesitated and then said, "Nevertheless, it would be hypocritical of me to condemn you for that."

"I was desperate and dying of cancer… but I know I shouldn't have done what I did," Constantine admitted.

"You're alive," said Tanya. "Make the most of it."

He didn't reply, but nodded and looked rather thoughtful.

"Perhaps there is something else you might like to ask Lady Tanya, while she's here in front of you," Dream prompted him. "I refer, of course, to the tragic events that happened in Newcastle more than ten years ago, which still haunted your dreams until recently."

"Yeah, thanks again for that," said Constantine, scratching the back of his neck. "So, it's like this… I tried to save a little girl who was possessed by a demon, but I was a reckless idiot and…" He grimaced. "He was killed and her soul was dragged off to Hell. Because of my mistakes."

Tanya refrained from commenting on the implication that he was no longer a 'reckless idiot', when recent experience suggested otherwise. She had more important matters to consider. "Would you like me to save her?"

Briefly, Constantine looked like he wanted to quibble over what she meant by the word 'save'. But he must have decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, as he merely nodded and said, "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble. Last I heard, she was in the clutches of a demon named Buer."

"Buer is currently in rebellion against me. He will be punished and the children he holds captive will be freed," Tanya promised.

"What will happen to them after that?" Constantine wanted to know.

"That's up to them. Maybe they'll be reincarnated and have another life. Or maybe they'll go to Heaven." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would prefer it if they didn't, but that's not for me to decide."

"Well, that's very kind of you…"

"I'm doing you a favor," Tanya corrected him. "In exchange… it's possible that I may have some work for you in future. For which you would be fairly paid and have the right to refuse, of course."

"Oh, of course," said Constantine, edging towards the door. "But, for now… I'll just go, shall I?"

"Yes, off you go," Tanya agreed. "I'm sure I'll see you again."

Constantine looked as if he hoped not, but he nodded again and then scurried away as if hoping he could leave his most recent regrets behind.

When he was gone, Dream offered Tanya the glass ball in which her defeated enemy was imprisoned and said, "This is for you."

"You give such wonderful presents," she said, taking it from him. "No wonder so many women have fallen for you."

He winced. "I suppose I deserved that," he admitted. "And yet, in spite of what I did to her, Nada found it in herself to forgive me. I hope that someday you'll do the same."

"You've helped me, so… I'll think about it, " said Tanya, with a playful smile.

Dream seemed to shudder. "I… I would appreciate that."

A moment of contemplative silence passed between them.

"Thank you for your assistance. I would have found it difficult to capture this one without your help," said Tanya, managing to hold the large glass ball under one arm. Inside, the First of the Fallen could be seen ranting and raging just as ineffectually as ever.

"I'm sure you would have managed," said Dream. "Still, I am pleased to have been of service to you."

"Such a gentleman," said Tanya, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Now, I must return to Hell. I've been gone too long already."

"Yes, I have duties of my own that I must attend to. First of all, I must decide what to do with this place," said Dream, looking around the cellar. "Evidently, it has partially merged with the Dreaming, which made it easy for me to defeat the First of the Fallen, but could also be a weakness."

"I thought maybe you could turn it into a tourist attraction for angels, demons and other beings who've never experienced the joys of sleep," Tanya suggested. "Personally, I found it very restful."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Dream. The faintest impression of a wry smile appeared on his lips.

"Farewell," said Tanya, even as she opened the portal that would take her back to Hell.

In the space between one moment and the next, it occurred to her to wonder why she had been so lenient with John Constantine. In some of her past lives, long ago, she would have exacted a horrible revenge and then exhibited whatever was left of him, so that anyone who might oppose her would think twice about doing so. It had never worked out as well as she'd expected. Some of her enemies seemed to see it as a challenge. And if it doesn't work… Why bother?

More than that, she couldn't be angry with Constantine because she didn't really care about what he'd done to her. She'd suffered much worse on innumerable occasions. It made no sense to take offense over something so trivial. He'd gambled and lost, but proved himself a worthy player of the game, and Tanya found herself looking forward to their next meeting. In future, he might be a useful asset.

By the same token, she didn't really mind that the Triumvirate and their followers had rebelled against her. At least it gave her something marginally more interesting to do than filing and stocktaking. And it gave her the perfect opportunity to dispose of some of her more useless and loathsome subordinates. The recent civil war was more enjoyable than anything else that had happened since Lucifer had appointed her as the new ruler of Hell. She felt more alive than she had in centuries.

Still, it made no real difference whether she won or lost. Not while Being X was ruler of the universe and everything in it. None of this matters at all.