The Plan

a/n: as always, I don't own magical Diary. I do own the fun ness of nightmares and my own MC.

For him, the plan had been to use all the experienced to get into bed with other women, to simply get into her heart. Rather, to get so far deep within her heart that she would love him to the point of foolishness. And he had done it, from every little thing to suggesting she should take blue magic classes in order to make sure she would see his humble little act and get his sincerest apology to romantic dates. He had done it all.

He had not anticipated to enjoy looking at her smile. Nor had he anticipated that when she scoffed and told off Angela, his very formidable ex, that he would find her clever. 'Rude and nosy too, it seems.' was such a simple phrase, but he had struggled not to laugh. No, the plan was to be offended. To be hurt. To make her pity him. Never to love her. Never to hold her dying body in his hands and want to caress her.

He'd caressed plenty of women. Kissed them, fucked them, manipulated them, and hurt them deeply. But they were all practice, very enjoyable practice, but practice all the same. And never once did he love any of them. Never once, when it didn't matter, did he want to anything but use them. But she was different. On the outside she was just like every other one- fairy attractive, and compared to the rest she was on the lower end, foolish, naive, with a deep desire to be loved and an infathomable desire to justify every lie ever fed to her. To be the one he could trust and love, as if he had never been given the chance.

But there was one kink in his plan. Or rather, several small and tiny cogs out of alignment and they all broke apart when the machine was supposed to work. His plan failed when he laughed at her and she smiled with a beautiful and haunting smile. "Thank you..for lying. I love you, Damien." Not a trace of hate, or even betrayal. Just the death of hope and the light that beautifully shone in her blue eyes vanished.

She was just one woman. The last one he ever had to use, if he ever needed to use one at all. And she was the one he had accidentally come to need, and to love.

For her, the plan had been simple. Just be near him until he wanted something she could not give, and she would leave. Her close proximity with Damien had been due to the dreams. Always the dreams. She'd met him in Gym class, and then he'd chosen her at Orientation. For those two weeks, she had not even remembered what the dreams did to her. The cold sweats she would wake in every single morning before the sun had even risen. The mental torture of seeing her mangled body, screams, death, pain, occuring with more and more frequency than she would have liked. Then they would lighten, only to catch her off guard again.

Being with him was freeing. She was normal. Instead of being a girl who couldn't sleep, ran to escape her own problems, never told anyone the truth, and often found herself unable to communicate with people, she was normal. She was a witch, and yet it was as a witch she had become normal. She was friendly with both her roommates, became friends with a senior who turned out to like rabbits, and even took a joking run as President in order to cheer up the stressed out candidates. And it had all been because he had touched her life and eradicated her nightmares.

When he had shrugged her off, she had known that her plan had no point anymore. She had even asked Potsdam if there was some magic she knew to aid in sleeping. She was desperate, but nothing Potsdam had suggested or done helped her. She was sleepless and back to normal. But at least she knew it wasn't all hopeless. Maybe there had been someone else out there like him. Someone else who might give her reprieve.

When he sent her his second letter, her plan had already started to break apart. She hadn't realized it then, but she had taken his letter into her pocket and started to hope then. That maybe whatever he said would be the truth. That maybe it had been coincidence she was in Grabiner's class when the letter was 'stolen' or maybe even that he regretted what he said. But he was a user. He was great with words and had a wonderful vocabulary, but that didn't make him honest. It wasn't his blue skin or his bat wings that made him hated. It was him.

But his words had given her hope, his touch had given her solace. Her dreams were normal and her ife was too. There had been a time when she didn't want to live at all if she had to live with those nightmares. So when he told her that he would die unless he conveniently had her soul, she gave up. She would die. No more nightmares, a fate that was worse than death. No having months of peace and happiness only be disrupted again by nightmares. She screamed at herself as her own self undid her own plan. Screamed because she knew, knew in her heart he was a liar. A cold, calculating liar that merely gave her peace. The sadness and pain, she mused, was merely because she knew that living was pointless then.

When she cut herself, the pain was terrible. But it was like an echo of pain in truth, something that simply called out for the terrible visions in her dreams. The pain in her body paled in comparison to the pain in her mind. But it all seemed to stop when he laughed at her and called her a fool. Why? She had asked herself. Why does it matter if he laughs? I knew it was a lie. I gave him my soul to return his favor...as well as to end my own life once and for all.

But as the pain pulsed on and he continued his evil and hurtful words, she realized something. She realized the truth. Her face contorted and her body shook. He probably thought it was from horror, she just knew it to be sadness. She had fallen in love with a monster of a man and knew full well that's who he was. She was almost happy he was being honest with her. She was so broken by her nightmares that freedom from them had been the catalyst for her first love- a love she had not even recognized as such until the man she loved was about to take her life.

She smiled a beautiful smile and thanked him for his lies. And told him what she had just admitted to herself.

Her nightmares had been a warning. Not for that night, but a night far into the future. Her nightmares were pieces of her destiny, an unfortunate one she had been forged a long time ago. But oddly enough her nightmares had devised a plan that would fail perfectly, just in time to fail with his. What was left of their plans was a twisted and dark love that was sealed when he lovingly took her hand and stopped the bleeding. He had saved her life, a life she had offered to him.

And with that, neither could erase the other from their lives. No matter how mad the would-be prince would become, or how powerful the little witch he had accidentally come to love would grow.

Because some plans simply must fail.