He stood in a world that looked like the apocalypse. Buildings built of sturdy granite had crumbled around him, a vague Greek quality to them, but it was much worse than those ruins. The ground was dark, but splashed red with blood, and the irony smell wafted up so he could smell the sickening aroma of death. The sky was black with vibrantly green clouds, all radiation and chemical, the clouds circled slowly to the dark back ground. There was no moon, or sun, or stars, but somehow everything was lit exactly the way it should be.
He looked up at the sky and stared at the strange large, lanky, almost demon-like birds fly in circles above his head. The mournful screams of monsters ripped through the atmosphere, strangled screams and sobs bit into the silence. He looked down, into the blood-red water, his reflection looked back at him. His eyes had been gouged out, but somehow he could still see. His familiar scar gone, his hair back to the original brown, and he was very small. His limbs were skinny and he had an all about scrawny look to him. His disfigured arm, his innocence, was gone. Gone. In its stead was a bloody stump, still dripping.
He heard a strange noise behind him, like someone falling, and turned quickly. His friends stood there. Well, not really stood. Each and every one of them, even people he had only met in passing or were very low members in the Order were impaled upon spikes in the ground, crucified almost. It was gory, their guts all strewn out of their stomachs and blood dripping and sliding down the spikes. It turned his stomach, making him queasy and sick. He threw up on the ground, then coughed up blood and gasped for breath when he was done.
The corpses suddenly perked up, lifting their heads. Moaning in unison, they all spoke in low tones. "You...killed...us...killed...ussss...kill...you...we...will...kill...you...all...your...fault..."
He gasped and spun back around, falling to his knees in front of the blood-like water. Instead of seeing his pale skin on his hand as he looked down, he saw dark skin. Looking up slowly, into the water to see his reflection, he gasped. He wasn't him anymore. He was Neah, the Noah who was trying to take him over, the man who was causing him so much trouble, pain, confusion, and ostracization from the rest of the Order.
Neah's face contorted into a grotesque smile, not like the understanding one that had appeared on the man's face the first time he saw him. It was almost like the Cheshire Cat, except evil, not playfully annoying. Neah whispered in a demon-esque voice, "I'll take over and you know it. I'll kill everyone in the Order, and the Noah. Heh heh heh heh heh..."
He jumped up from the water and skittered back, pushing himself up against a fallen stone wall. He was shaking hard, barely able to keep himself from throwing up again from sheer nerves. A whisper, just behind his ear, "Your name...?"
"Allen..."
"Your name...?" The breathy voice repeated.
"A-Allen!"
"Your name...? What is your name...?"
He looked down at himself, at the dark skin, at the whole body, at the strange clothes. He remembered the dark hair from the reflection, feeling a lock with his finger tips. "My name...what is my name? Was it...? No, it wasn't Allen." He muttered under his breath, forgetting his life, his name, his impaled friends. "Neah...that's my name. How could I forget that?"
Allen sprang up in bed in a cold sweat. His body ached all over and he was shivering. He was afraid. Afraid that one day, what happened in his dream would come true. That he would lose control, Neah would take over, his friends would die, and he'd be all alone again. Scared that he'd lose himself and the people he loved all over again. Allen didn't want that, it was horrible.
Allen could remember the despair he felt sitting at his foster father's grave. He was completely and utterly alone in the world, the only person whom he cared for had died. He didn't have a place to go, so he sat in the graveyard morning to night until the frightening image of the Earl descended upon him. Then, after reanimating Mana and having his innocence come out, he was alone again, and dying slowly from blood loss. It was lonely and painful in more than one way.
"Nngh..." Allen held himself and rocked forward and back, biting his lip as pain surged through his body. He was able to fight it off though, and eventually he was able to stand. Images from the nightmare kept rushing in front of his eyes, making him shack violently and cry out from fear.
Staggering to the door, he left his room. Along the way, he clutched and felt at the wall in the dark hallway, running his fingers over the door numbers like a blind man. When he reached the room he needed, the one he had subconsciously remembered, but couldn't remember exactly who lived in the room in his foggy mind. Allen fell in front of the door, panting from the pain of keeping the powerful Noah soul at bay.
He hit the door once with one of his fists, the noise making him flinch even though he was the one who made it. Allen heard something stir in the room so he hit the door once again, this time with his finger tips, clawing at the door almost with the pads of his fingers. Steps approached the door and it suddenly swung inwardly. Allen wrapped his arms around his pained stomach and whimpered, he was surprised he made it that far.
Kanda Yuu stood in front of the quivering boy, momentarily thinking about how to proceed. When Allen yelled out in sudden pain and his skin began to darken in a slow wave, Kanda picked up the boy and carried him inside. A low, strange laugh came from Allen, but it wasn't his voice. Kanda embraced the shaking, possessed boy, staying quiet out of sheer confusion.
A strangled gurgle, then stillness.
A whimper, a sob. "Ow...why does it hurt?"
"The Noah tried to take over." Kanda murmured breathily, his mouth near Allen's ear.
"Ah!" Allen pushed the other away, he fell out of his lap and onto the floor. "I-I-I-!" Allen stuttered, not able to continue.
"Calm down, baka. Aren't you hurt?" Kanda asked reasonably.
Allen nodded slowly, looking at him suspiciously, "Why aren't you making me leave?"
"Don't tempt me. We're low on exorcists, so I'd rather you didn't get caught almost having the Noah take over. No matter how fucking annoying you are, the Order needs you."
Allen nodded slowly and pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his aching, fast-beating heart. The nightmare took a toll on him more than the possession did. He couldn't stop thinking about it and almost losing control because he wanted to hide from his fear. Kanda noticed this and sighed.
"What made you lose control anyway?"
"Nightmare," Allen croaked. "A really bad nightmare."
"Tell me about it. It might help to not bottle it up." Kanda said, slipping off the bed to sit across from him on the floor.
"I...I'm in this weird world. Post-apocalyptic. Everything looks discolored and scary, like everything was put through a negative filter. I'm hurt bad, my arm and my eyes are gone. Then I turn around...and...and everyone's dead. You, Lavi, Lenalee, Bak, Komui, Miranda, Krory, Johnny...everyone from the Order...dead...Impaled on spikes and bleeding bad..." Allen's voice quivers.
"Th-then the dead bodies all start saying it's my fault...that they're gonna kill me...and then the Fourteenth starts taking over. At first I fight it, but...then...then I don't. I think I'm the Fourteenth...but I don't want to be. I'm Allen. I don't want everyone to die. I-" Allen breaks off, realizing he's been crying. He wipes his face, completely red from the embarrassment of crying in front of Kanda.
"Dammit...I don't want to be this weak..." Allen muttered, rubbing his tired, red eyes.
"You aren't weak. You've stayed alive this long. Most don't."
Allen looked up at him and scowled, "You're the strongest in the Order, you have no idea how it feels to be possessed by something like this."
"I...have halucinations of lotus flowers and that girl from my past. In the lab I couldn't talk about it because they'd kill me, and I have no idea why I see those things."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I know how hard it can be to keep it a secret that you're struggling every minute of every day. It hurts to see everyone smiling, and you have to pretend that you're fine for them, doesn't it?"
Allen stared. He hadn't expected the man to know how he was feeling. Exactly how he was feeling. "Yeah."
"I stopped trying a long time ago..."
"That reminds me, I've never seen you smile." Allen moved closer, their faces mere inches apart.
"We're at war, there's nothing to smile about." Kanda muttered.
"There must be something that makes you smile, something that makes you want to live. Or else you'd be having nightmares every night."
"How do you know I don't?"
"Because! You look perfectly fine in the morning, well rested."
"Fine then. There is something," Kanda answered, looking peeved.
"What is it then?" Allen asked, wanting to know. He wanted them to not argue, to be friends.
"You." The samurai looked at the ceiling.
"Me? I-I make you happy?"
"Of course you do."
Allen was bright red at that point, "W-well...you make me happy too. I don't want to be taken over, because I couldn't see you anymore. I came here because I knew the person that lived in this room was important and nice and that I really loved them and I really want you to not hate me because I-"
A soft kiss was pressed to Allen's forehead, making the younger boy melt. Everything was going to be okay, Allen knew that. Because if he ever got any more nightmares, Kanda would be there. He'd be there to kiss him and keep him close and calm him. There would be no more terror in the night or almost-take-overs. He just knew it.