After watching Sleepy Hollow to the point where I was mouthing the words that the Actors/actress' were saying, I figured it was time to write a fan fiction. :)

I am a huge fan of Abraham, like seriously, he's a badass! I don't like Katrina at all, and thought about her being a witch; I didn't like the idea of her being a "good" witch, either. I wondered what if Katrina wasn't the one who captured Ichabod's heart first? What if it was Abraham? A forbidden love and a jealous witch? It can only lead to disaster.

Warnings: Past memories! Slash/Pre-slash. Short length FxM to/from MxM Ichabod/Abraham. Past Katrina/Abraham Katrina/Ichabod. Mpreg in later chapters. Warlock/witch. Slow starter. AU. SPOILERS. Set in season 1 before capturing the headless horseman.

Sleepy Hollow with a slash twist. A rewritten destiny.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Sleepy Hollow.

Our Broken Past. Chapter 1: Faded Memories…

It was a heated kiss, full of want and need, and Ichabod Crane found himself biting down gently at a lower lip which did not belong to him. He pulled back slowly from the one he was currently on top of; his long, dark locks fell down to the side of his face and a smile blossomed upon his features – his eyes holding nothing but love within them for the person beneath him.

He had this memory many times before. It came to him through his sleep, but he knew it all too well. He had even began to think that perhaps Katrina was the one causing them. Reminding him of the time they had spent together.

Ichabod had hoped it was to recall the good times, and that she truly was the culprit, because if she wasn't…then instead of this once happy time…it was a haunted dream.

A nightmare. So he would have to live with knowing the fact that he may never get the chance to share this time with her again.

Shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts, he turned back to the one who held his heart, only to stop. Eyes widening and heart beats quickening, Ichabod did not stare into the face of Katrina like he had so many times before.

There was no amber hair that graced the creamy pillow underneath her head; no features that struck out – instead they were blurred. The only thing that gave whoever was beneath him a form of life was the pure golden strands of hair.

Ichabod found himself more comfortable with whoever was beneath him than he had ever felt with his wife. It felt odd. It felt wrong. Yet ultimately; it felt right somehow. His hand moved on its own and touched the blonde locks, twirling the fine curls within his fingertips.

"Why are you hesitant now, my love? Why do you not wish to share this kiss with me?"

That voice.

That voice certainly did not belong to Katrina, either. It was rough, deep yet soft and filled with emotion. Desire, longing…love?

The warmth of a hand graced Ichabod's cheek, running smoothly over his stubble-locked jawline before finally resting on his neck.

Who was this being? Why did Ichabod feel so drawn to them? So…in love. There was one question that stuck out more than any other; why couldn't he see the others face?

"...Do you not want me any longer?" The voice broke slightly, and even though Ichabod couldn't see the others eyes, he knew there was tears building up within them.

Yet. Even without seeing the face of who he knew he loved more than anyone else, Ichabod smiled warmly, placing his forehead against the blondes.

"I will always want you, my dear."

Ichabod felt arms wrap around his shoulders, drawing him down and into a passionate kiss. There was so much emotion within that signal action; it was rather overwhelming. It was raw, needy and seemed to mean more than either could verbally say.

"Ichabod," the blonde pulled away. Ichabod wished he could see the others face, pleading with whatever gods maybe at that time to allow him such a wish – to grant him the ability to see his lover. "There is something I must tell you…"

"Can it not wait?" Another stolen kiss; another broken memory; another shattered dream.

It was a small, hallowed laugh that he gained in return. "It cannot."

"Very well," he replied with a sigh. He wanted nothing more than to show the blonde simply how much he cared. Instead, he flopped down onto the far too large bed, cradling his lover in his arms. "Do go on."

The other turned in his arms, burying themselves in his embrace.

"…I have done something grave, my love."

Ichabod turned serious at the sound of the others tone. It was shy, low and barely even hearable.

"What is it?"

For all of the words he had spoken in his life, Ichabod could not think of one when the unknown face of his lover began to form – and just as their eyes began to meet for the first time since he had awoken in this dream like state – the words of his lovers deed died in the air they met.

"Ichabod!"

No. Ichabod thought as his lover began to vanish like they had never been there.

"No!" He reached out, grasping for a hand, a limb – for anything! Yet all that he met was nothingness...

"Ichabod!"

"Ichabod?!"

The once professor snapped awake and stared into the worried eyes of Abigail, who was peering down at him. It took Ichabod awhile to regain his bearings, realising he was in the cabin in the woods, and it had truly been a dream.

"Are you okay?" She asked once he sat up. The smell of coffee, which Abbie held in her hand, filled his nose and he scrunched his face. It was far too early for the scent of coffee beans.

"I'm fine," he was anything but fine. However his fellow witness did not need to worry about him.

Now that he had woken up, he had regained his senses; who was that person he was with in his dream? Why wasn't it Katrina? There was so many questions.

"And you sure your okay?" Abbie looked at him sceptically. "Did you have a vision about your wife? Did she send you another message?"

Ichabod shook his head. "I am not…quite sure…"

Abbie sat down on the side of Crane's bed and placed her coffee down on the floor. "Would you like to elaborate?"

"Katrina wasn't there…" Ichabod stated while staring a hole into the ceiling. "But there was a blonde…"

The Lieutenant whistled. "A blonde, huh?"

Standing up and walking over towards the window of the cabin, it was finally then that Ichabod found it was raining. "A blonde who I felt more love for than any other…" Those words were so low that he knew Abbie wouldn't hear them clearly. And he was glad of that.

With a cold sweat running over him, Ichabod continued to stare out into the rainy night that was storming on outside of the cabin; a thick mist began to set in around sleepy hollow.

Unseen to Ichabod, in the distance of the cabin, was a headless man sitting on a horse with a burning axe in his grasp. Rain droplets hit his mud covered redcoat, sliding down the fabric and the rest of his form until they hit his hands which tightened their grip around his weapon and the reins of the white horse he sat upon.

With a sharp tug, the horse whined and arched back with its hooves moving in a kicking motion before it ran off into the woods – the Rider never looking back...

If you want more then please let me know; otherwise this story will be left with one chapter or even removed. Sorry about the mistakes! :)