A/N: This was very weird to write. Disclaimers: The concepts and characters of FG belong to L.J. Smith.

I don't know who the other people are cos I didn't create them and I've never seen them before. Written back to front. Literally.


How it ended…

For a moment I could see through his eyes, feel what he was feeling. I was standing in a clothing store, and everyone who had been dead, was now alive and well, browsing around calmly. They didn't look afraid of me - they didn't even notice me standing here. I felt they should run away from me, they should be freaking out.

No, I felt like running away. I moved, slowly, observing my surroundings. Everything had a golden sheen to it.

When I looked, I saw myself standing by one of the shelves, holding a red shirt in my hands. This was no out of body experience where I stood aside and watched the scene unfold. I was actually inside of him and that really was my body admiring the article of clothing. I felt sick as he walked toward me - I could see myself through his eyes, hear his insanely calm thoughts, I felt what he felt but couldn't define the feeling...

Then I was back in my body and looked up at him, startled - and why am I smiling? But I'm not afraid of him... not anymore... am I?

(A little earlier...)

I stood in the warm, country style kitchen, smiling as I watched the pretty lady hand a dish to the little girl. A beautiful little girl with thick long honey blonde hair and a porcelain complexion. She looked like a beautiful fragile doll. I see the tender way her mother smoothes down her hair and tells her to take the food through to the dining room. Everything looks so warm and cosy, I feel at ease, at home...

Not knowing how it happens but time passes and for some reason we're all worried. Magic, I think. Evil magic. We can't find the little girl, she won't come downstairs when we call her. I don't even know her name. I think someone told me her name before but for the life of me I can't remember…

We go upstairs. The hallway is long and narrow and dark. This wasn't funny. I hate hallways, especially the long, narrow, dimly lit ones. I feel the fear grip into my heart as we step into the bathroom – white ceiling, white walls, white floor. Like stepping into a science lab. I feel a scream rise in my throat as I send a quick glance at the tub. I knew. I knew.

The water was a liquid green-blue, clear - and the little girl lay at the bottom, golden hair floating around her head, eyes staring wide and lifeless. Her image carved into my mind to haunt me forever, I turn away as her mother kneels by the tub to pull her out, weeping.

... He's gone mad. I can't see him. I don't know what he looks like. But he's just a boy. A demented, twisted boy. He broke into a wooden cabin and killed the occupants - he shot them each and it was like I was standing right there behind him, watching the massacre unfold.

My body jolted with every gunshot, but I couldn't press my hands to my ears, or look away. I think to myself – it would be better to be receiving those bullets myself rather than being forced passive to watch. I stood paralyzed in terror. He killed his family, and 

now these people... and insanely more people come to visit, neighbours, friends, and he kills them all. Brutal, cruel, ruthless.

The yard looks like a war zone - decaying bodies strewn about. Wolves run around, somehow manage to get inside the boarded up house. The boy has locked himself inside, like a caged animal. The wolves got ready to attack him... then we're in the store, all the people who was dead a moment before, alive again.

(In the beginning)

I'm nervous as the little family introduces themselves to me. I'm going to stay with them. I don't know who they are, or why I'm here. I can't seem to focus on any detail of their faces or voices. And even as I'm dreaming, I know it's a dream. That's why I can't see their details clearly, I think reasonably to myself.

"Oh, and this is our son..." the woman said, beaming, a kind laugh in her voice as she extends an arm toward me.

No, past me. To someone who had come to stand beside me quietly, discreetly. My initial reaction is startled, seeing him appear from the corner of my eye.

It feels like someone with hands as cold and as hard as ice is digging their fingers into my back. I stiffen involuntarily, feel fear in all its glory - real fear.

I feel paralyzed, muscles locked in tension. Like something cold running down my spine. My breath catches in my throat and my heart misses a beat. I can't breathe…

All I can see is he's tall and built strong, wearing jeans and a white shirt. But it's his shocking white hair that sends one irrational thought racing through my mind: it's Julian, I'm actually dreaming about Julian...

I can't force myself to look at him. I'm too scared. I don't have to look to know who he is. He's not moving, but I can feel his eyes on me...

"...Lucifer." the woman finished still in her happy tone. For a split second I admire the name, it's a beautiful name...

Then I feel my blood run cold and his eyes on me become even more frightening. Who calls their son LUCIFER??