A/N: OH DEAR GOD. PLOT BUNNIES WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME.

Yeahhh. I got bored...and the urge to write something FFVII-related just snuck up on me. I couldn't shake it until I wrote something, so I sat down and wrote. This is (shocker) yet another self-insert from yours truly, who can never seem to write anything else! -headdesk- Since the writing didn't turn out half-bad, I figured I'd publish it and see what people thought. The title is subject to change...I honestly couldn't think of anything, so there you go, it's a Rolling Stones song. B)

For those of you who know me, don't worry; I'm still working diligently (er...being attacked by writer's block) on my other stories. Into the Nightmare's next on my update list, though sometimes I do go out of order. XD

For those of you who don't know me...why hello there! XD

Yes, it's a self-insert. The character I use is based off of me and has all of my flaws included, and will (hopefully) react realistically to the scenarios she ends up in. She's not a Mary-Sue (and if you read this and believe otherwise, PLEASE tell me.) I don't use self-inserts to live out my personal fantasies (coughstepheniemeyercough); I just enjoy making bad things happen to my insert-character. For some odd reason. XD

Anyway, now that I've rambled way too much, it's time to get on with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII, I don't profit off this, blah blah blah.

EDIT: Cut out a couple of unnecessary paragraphs; hopefully the pacing's a little better now.

The dark room lit up in an instant, and for a moment the candle's flame wavered on its wick, as if it were about to go out. A slow, monstrous rumble of thunder rang out after the flash of lightning had faded. The house almost felt like it was shaking.

I watched the flame waver again, more strongly this time, and realized that it was my own heavy breathing that was disturbing it. Not the lightning…of course not. I pushed the candle away, maybe with a little more force than was necessary. Steadying my breathing was a more difficult task. What was wrong with me tonight? I was eighteen and used to being home alone, so why was I so on edge?

Part of me suggested that my instincts were trying to tell me something, but I pushed that thought away. It was ridiculous. Yes, I was alone in an empty house—my mom had left two days ago to visit our folks in Maine, and she wouldn't be back for another week and a half. But the doors were all locked anyway, and I lived in a pretty peaceful middle-class neighborhood in the middle of nowhere. I didn't have anything to worry about.

Okay, yeah. So the empty house was also dark. Central New York was experiencing a pretty big early spring thunderstorm right now, and there were a lot of power outages, hence why I had a candle sitting in front of me. But still, that wasn't anything serious. I didn't mind power outages; when the storm was over, I'd be able to see the stars outside for once.

If anything, it was actually pretty peaceful right now. Even though the rain was coming down in buckets and the wind was howling, the house was nice and warm and I was comfortable enough. I had all of my drawing supplies spread out on the kitchen table, and I was sketching by candlelight. That had worked out well up until the point my hands started trembling.

Something was really bothering me. I just couldn't figure out what it was. It wasn't even so much the darkness; the room I was in wasn't even really all that dark. I had lit plenty of candles. But the shadows…the shadows danced and flickered with the motion of the tiny flames. I didn't like that sense of movement in my peripheral.

I sighed, dropping the pencil I was holding. It was useless…I wasn't going to get anything done if I couldn't concentrate.

A half-finished doodle of a chocobo stared at me from the sketchbook page. Its cute cheerfulness didn't do anything to alleviate the tension I felt. For a moment, I considered taking some pills to help me sleep, and thought better of it. I'd have to put out all the candles if I decided to go to bed. The thought of falling into a medicine-induced sleep in a pitch black house didn't appeal to me.

I was doing it again. What did I think was going to happen? I was alone; that meant there was nothing here that was cause for concern. This wasn't a horror movie, and it wasn't Silent Hill. There weren't any monsters waiting for me in the dark corners of the house.

Maybe it was that dream I'd had earlier. The feeling had started after that dream…ugh, why had I even taken that nap in the first place? Everything had been okay up until I'd fallen asleep. Then I had abruptly woken up to a peal of thunder and a dark house. My skittishness had been understandable then, but it hadn't faded even after I'd oriented myself.

The dream. I couldn't remember all of it aside from bits and pieces, which infuriated me because the few details I could recall seemed interesting. There had been all kinds of contrasting images…a field of flowers, a burning house, an old church, a trail of blood…

A trail of blood? The image had just come to me, clear as day. That was a little unnerving…why had I dreamt about something like that? Whose blood was it? It felt like I'd seen the image somewhere before, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

The entire dream itself had had a distinct sense of familiarity. I vaguely remembered having a companion speaking to me, a man…someone I knew. Someone I really liked, actually, but his identity had faded out of my mind when I'd been jolted awake. He had been just talking to me at first, but then at the end, his voice had been urgent…he'd been trying to tell me something important, as if he'd known that I was about to wake up.

That was stupid. It was a dream; the guy had been a figment of my imagination. I didn't even know any guys that I felt that strongly about. I had really…admired this person. Could I even think of any men that I admired that much?

I ran a hand through my hair, attempting to concentrate. He'd had…dark hair. And…ugh, I just couldn't remember his face clearly.

…stream rejected him. If…like that, he'd…again and again.

What? But it wasn't coming back to me; all I could remember were bits and pieces of the man's words, fading in and out like a radio with bad reception. I knew that voice, but I just couldn't place it.

…wasn't…choice. I'm…when I can. Sorry this…on you, but…as I say, then…

Dammit! What had he been telling me? His tone had gotten a little nervous towards the end. There was some barely suppressed frustration there, too, but it hadn't been directed at me.

… I hate to ask, but you're the only one I could get through to. Will you help me?

Yeah, I had answered.

I won't blame you if you change your mind.

Lightning flashed again, thunder following almost immediately after. Broken out of my reverie, I rubbed absentmindedly at my forehead. What had I agreed to?

Ah, hell. It had just been a dream; there was no sense in dwelling on it too much. Maybe it was the lingering memories of the dream that were making me nervous. In that case, then I didn't have anything to worry about after all.

But still…the tension remained, no matter what I told myself.

Another flash of lightning, accompanied by an enormous crash of thunder. I winced, covering my ears and shuddering. That had sounded really close. It would be just my luck if the house was struck or something. Maybe that was what this whole sense of foreboding was about. Part of me debated on going over to my sister's place, which was a five minute drive from here, but I decided against it. Driving in this weather, even for just a few minutes, would undoubtedly be terrifying. It wasn't worth it.

And then there was another crash, but this wasn't thunder. My blood ran cold when I realized the sound was coming from my garage. Suddenly my mouth was dry and my hands were trembling even more than before and I realized that I should've listened to that gut feeling and gotten the hell out of here.

My hand hovered over my cell phone for a moment. Call the cops? No…no, I didn't know for sure. It could have just been an animal taking shelter from the storm. I needed to…

Christ. I needed to go check.

The thought of doing that caused my heart rate to jump. I really, really didn't want to see what was out there. It was probably nothing, but then again it might be something, and what would I do if it was?

Maybe if I just ignored it, it would go away…

There weren't any more sounds coming from the garage, but the silence only put me more on edge. Maybe I wasn't hearing anything, but I hadn't heard it leave, either. Whatever it was.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. There was no way I could just ignore it. Then I'd never get to sleep tonight, and I'd spend the next six hours being a paranoid mess. If I just checked, I could let myself rest easy afterwards.

Besides, I was a big girl. I was a legal adult and it was about time I started handling myself like one. There was no need to be afraid. This wasn't some densely populated city; I was living in a nice little development where everyone knew their neighbors and kids could play in the street for an hour without being interrupted by a single car.

Okay. I could do this. Just grab the flashlight, walk down the stairs…

I turned my flashlight on, heading down into the foyer. For a moment, I glanced between the two doors that were there. One of them led into the garage, while the front door led directly outside. If I just took the front door, I could run to my car and leave. Just go to my sister's place, tell her about it, and then laugh it off tomorrow morning.

Oh, fuck it. I was just being overly paranoid. It was just an animal or something.

Determined, I walked over to the garage door and yanked it open. It was pitch dark inside; for a moment, I faltered. Then I raised the flashlight's beam.

The light reflected off of the glowing, blue-green eyes of a beast.

Before I could even let out a scream, the figure had lashed out, and within the next second I was pinned to the foyer wall with a leather gloved hand wrapped around my neck. I couldn't do anything but gape. My mind seemed to screech to a halt; it refused to register what I was seeing.

Not a beast. Not a monster. That was my first thought. But those eyes…they did have a strange glow to them. Catlike slits instead of pupils. Was this real? Could this be real? Those cold, predatory eyes were narrowed with anger.

I could feel my entire body go limp with terror. The flashlight had clattered to the floor, but I could still see his face in the dim candlelight. Silver bangs framed a pale face with delicate but distinctly masculine features. Strong jaw, partially exposed chest, leather jacket, metal shoulder plates—

I couldn't examine any more. My heart was hammering away and I reached up to claw at the hand gripping my throat in a feeble attempt to escape. How had things changed so quickly? One minute I had just been checking the garage for animals, and now…

"P-Please," I choked out, aware that I was wasting precious air. I had read somewhere that humans could go up to ten minutes without oxygen and not receive permanent brain damage, but panicking and struggling drastically lowered that time span.

Telling myself to remain calm wasn't working. This man was going to kill me.

His eyes narrowed even more and his grip on me tightened until I was sure something was going to be crushed. Then the man suddenly shuddered and fell to the floor, releasing me.

I gasped, taking in as many lungfuls of air as I could, nearly beginning to cough because of it. Grabbing the flashlight off the floor, I stumbled backwards into the stairs. The man was on his knees near the front door, clutching at his side. Blood was pooling on the wood beneath him.

My hands were trembling almost too violently to hold it, but I brandished the flashlight as best I could. It was all I could think of to use as a weapon, though I doubted it would do me any good. My neck felt like one big bruise. Where was my cell phone? Upstairs. Would I have time to call the police? No…my eyes flew to the still-open door. I needed to run outside, get in my car, and get the hell out of Dodge.

But I couldn't move. I was frozen to the spot, my eyes glued to that man. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. That coat. That hair.

The Lifestream rejected him. If things had been left like that, he'd keep coming back again and again.

The man I admired, the one who had spoken to me in the dream…Zack Fair. Zack had been telling me about Sephiroth.

Sephiroth.

"Oh my god…" I whispered, horrified.

The man's head snapped up, as if he'd forgotten I was there. Our eyes met and I once more ascertained that his were glowing, and no one could copy that effect. It was impossible. He had mako eyes, the eyes of a SOLDIER. It was too striking to be fake.

We stared at each other for a moment. The idea occurred to me that he almost resembled a caged animal, agitated and ready to lash out. I felt the blood drain from my face. What could I do? If…if it really was him… there was no hope of escaping, not when he had inhuman reflexes.

But this couldn't be real. It just couldn't…

"Who are you?" He finally spoke. His tone was unnervingly calm, as if he hadn't just tried to strangle me moments before. And that voice, that deep voice…it was his voice.

I gripped the railing to the stairs with one hand, my knuckles turning white. "Th…This is my house," I said, my voice sounding a little raspy. "Who are you?"

Clearly he didn't care much for my response, but he didn't move from his spot on the floor. The pool of blood was growing. I wouldn't have normally answered so boldly, but something told me that my identity would have absolutely no meaning to him anyway.

It wasn't really my choice. I'm gonna try to help you when I can. Sorry this responsibility got dumped on you, but if you do as I say, then it should be okay.

Zack's voice, hurried and desperate. He hadn't even sounded like he believed his own words. What responsibility had he been talking about? Getting myself brutally murdered by Sephiroth?

The man stared at me again. Then, after a calculated pause, he spoke. "You know who I am."

"Yeah, I do," I confirmed, still frozen in place. "Sephiroth, right?"

"Who are you?" he asked again, this time more aggressively. His eyes flashed with anger.

Estuans interius ira vehementi…

Goddammit, no! Think straight! Run, for fuck's sake, run!

"M-My name's Brittany," I replied, my voice small. "Please don't kill me."

Sephiroth began to get to his feet again and I nearly let out a scream, scrambling backwards up the stairs. The flashlight didn't feel like such a powerful weapon at the moment. I doubted that even a hard blow to the head would faze him. Because this had to be Sephiroth, and if I spent even a second doubting that it was, he would murder me.

"What is this place?" he demanded. "What—"

But then his eyes abruptly glazed over. He clutched his side again, letting out a grunt, and collapsed. This time, he didn't move.

I nervously inched over to him. After what felt like five minutes of staring at him, I bent at the knees and nudged his shoulder a little. He didn't respond. I reached down and brushed some of his bangs away from his face, and saw that his eyes were closed. He was unconscious.

Jesus Christ, the most notorious Final Fantasy villain was out cold in my house. And he was bleeding all over my floor.

"This can't be happening," I murmured, shaking my head. A million options raced through my mind at once, but I couldn't organize my thoughts long enough to think of something rational.

Was this Sephiroth? Was this really Sephiroth? The logical part of me was saying no, but really, that was the only way this would make sense. Who would make a costume this elaborate just to break into someone's house and attempt to kill them? No one could've gotten his costume that perfect. Even the best of cosplayers seemed at least a little off, but everything about this guy's appearance just clicked—even his voice.

"This can't be happening," I repeated.

This guy was the real deal. I couldn't just drive off and leave him here; if he disappeared into the night, who knew what kind of disasters he'd cause? But could I just call the police on him? This town's dinky police force wouldn't know what hit them.

He was bleeding. He was bleeding everywhere. Oh god, what was I supposed to do?

I shakily stepped over him, looking out the open door and into the garage once more. A quick sweep with the flashlight determined that there were no more surprises waiting for me out there. Had that crash I'd heard just been Sephiroth falling into my garage from…wherever the hell he'd come from?

I shut the door and stared down at him again. He didn't have Masamune with him—that was one thing to be thankful for, but it still didn't make him any less dangerous. He had inhuman strength that was probably beyond anything I'd ever seen before. He could snap me like a twig if he wanted to.

… I hate to ask, but you're the only one I could get through to. Will you help me?

I won't blame you if you change your mind.

So that was what he'd meant. Why his voice had sounded so grave. Any person in their right mind would book it the second they saw Sephiroth.

But I'd said yes. I'd said I would help him, and I had a feeling that that was why this man was lying at my feet. Why had I agreed? What the hell had I agreed to?

The Lifestream rejected him.

Or maybe he'd rejected the Lifestream. But either way, it meant that he could free himself from death much the way he'd done in Advent Children, and the cycle would just continue over and over. Until the day Cloud couldn't fight him anymore.

This was crazy. It was a video game.

Was that why he'd been sent here? To end that cycle? But what good would being on Earth do him?

This was fucking insane! I couldn't believe…I just couldn't…I…

So much blood. Could Sephiroth die? The Lifestream didn't exist here. If I let him die, would that finally be the end of him?

Help him.

"Okay," I whispered, feeling horribly lost. Those two words appeared in my mind and I clung to them, not knowing what else to do. "Okay. I can do this."

Lightning flashed outside and I nearly screamed, having forgotten about the storm.

Somehow, I managed to regain my composure. Bending over, I grabbed one of Sephiroth's arms and pulled it around my shoulders. Then I lifted. He didn't budge.

This was going to be a lot harder than I thought…

Without giving myself time to contemplate the complete absurdity of what I was doing, I began the slow and difficult task of carrying the silver haired man upstairs.

A/N: This idea has probably been done to death, I know. I just really wanted to write something involving Sephiroth, but I kept drawing a blank. I've always wanted to do a SI where the game character ends up on Earth instead of vice versa, so this is what happened. :P

Uhhhh I don't know if I'll continue this or not. I'll probably write more at some point, but I'm not sure. This chapter was highly amusing to write, though~

Reviewwww! You know you want to. Also, constructive criticism is much appreciated. :D