Ashley lifted her head and her lips quirked upwards. "You can come in, Abby. The door's open."

There was a moment of silence before the door slowly swung open. "How'd you know it was me? I hadn't knocked yet."

Ashley set down her homework and sat up. "Each soul has a unique tug, almost like a snowflake. Also, you weren't exactly wrong about the earth bending. I'm not nearly as skilled as Toph, but I'm learning. I could feel your vibrations."

Abigail smiled slightly. "Cool." She lingered for a second before stepping inside.

"Clarice won't be back till later. She said she was going clubbing with some friends. We're alone."

Abigail sat on the bed, seemingly more relaxed. "I'm worried about nightmares. I figured you'd know what I'm talking about and would know how to help."

A twinge of guilt made its way through the brunette's system as she dropped the mist that encased her. "If I'm being completely honest, I haven't had a single dream since I learned about magical sleeping droughts. I would offer it to you, but you're mortal. If I offer you the wrong one, it could burn you alive from the inside out or some schist. I can, however, teach you to channel your emotions. No guilt, no nightmares. However, naturally, that could cause its own string of problems."

"No guilt... wouldn't that make me a psychopath?"

Ashley considers this momentarily. "It is a 'symptom', but it isn't the only factor. Psychopaths are manipulative. They blend in so well because they can mimic human emotions and responses, but they don't truly feel them. Not really."

She falls silent for a moment before continuing. "I wouldn't be helping you get rid of guilt, not truly, but I could if you asked me to. I'm not justifying your actions nor am I justifying my own. But the sooner that you accept that you were just doing what it takes to survive, the better off you'll be. And if you want a proper psychopath, psychoanalyze Hannibal. I believe you'll find that he's a classic example. Or perhaps use my Mother."

"When do we start?"

Ashley put away her homework. "Right now, I suppose."

"What about the paper you were working on?"

"Professor Graham of all people should understand why I didn't finish. Besides, since he's started to mentor me, dare I say it, he's gone a tad soft. Puppy dog eyes will do him in, and I did learn from the best, after all."

Sitting up, Ashley crossed her legs and draped her arms onto her knees. "Now, where to begin?"

True to Ashley's word, the two teens spent the next hour 'conditioning' Abigail's mind and emotions before they both crawled into bed and promptly fell asleep.

Ashley, having forgotten to take the magical sleeping drought, found herself stumbling through the stereotypical demigod visions. It started out light at first. A small well lit house in the distance, surrounding by an ocean of fog. The barking of unfamiliar dogs as she ran, her hand firmly grasping their leash.

But slowly her dream twisted and turned in an attempt to make up for the years they had been oppressed. First a family dinner, all killed before the remaining child is also slain. A body in a chamber of fire with nothing but morbid screams.

Next was Will Graham pointing a gun at her. "I know who I am. I'm not so sure...I know who you are anymore." Her own scream, a firm "No" that was quickly followed by a loud bang.

She shot upright with a gasp. Abigail was quick to sit up as well. "I thought you said you don't have nightmares."

"I don't. Demigods, we sometimes have...visions. I think I just witnessed my own murder." Her voice answered in a raspy shaky whisper.

"Hannibal?"

She shook her head 'no' in confusion. "I think...I think Will's going to shoot me." Her words were chopped and carefully chosen. "He said he wasn't sure if he knew who I was anymore."

"You think? How can you not know?"

"I didn't see him shoot me. He was pointing a gun and I heard a bang, and then I woke up. In fact, I wasn't in the scene at all besides me screaming 'No'. It could've been anyone he shot."

Abigail looked like she wanted to protest, but Ashley was already up. "Jack Crawford will be calling me any second now about a dead family. I'll fetch us breakfast. What do you want?"

Abigail blinked, surprised slightly by Ashley's change in demeanor. She no longer seemed small and out of breath. The brunette was smiling and seemed to be bursting with energy.

"Umm...cereal's fine."

"Alright. It should be right there...I'll make an omelet for myself, though if you want one yourself, you should tell me now. I've been putting hemlock in mine."

Abigail blanched. "You're eating poison hemlock? Why?"

Ashley rummaged around in the kitchen as she talked. "I'm immune. I've always been an 'eye for an eye' sort of gal. Besides, it's not all that bad. It is related to parsnips, after all. I'll be relatively fine unless I start to lose unreasonable amounts of weight. That would discharge the toxins from my fat to my bloodstream which would surely kill me, which is why I've been eating nonstop."

Vague understanding passed over Abigail's face as she started to eat her cereal. "Would it even be enough to poison him if he ... ate you."

Ashley's smile grew. "It should be. I've been eating it three meals a day since he became Professor Graham's psychiatrist. That's around....maybe a month now. And to be quite frank, I'm running out of stuff to put it in. Unfortunately, I can't keep any leftovers, because Clarice, my roommate, would eat it and get herself killed."

The theme song for 'the good, the bad, and the ugly' ripped through the earlier morning and Ashley picked you her phone. It had taken her nearly eight months to program it to not attract monsters within a ten-mile radius, but naturally she still felt nervous to use it.

She sighed as she hung up. "Well, duty calls," she paused as she emptied her meal onto a plate, "but if Agent Crawford thinks I'm going anywhere before I eat, he's dead wrong."