Note(s): This is something I decided to write for a halloween contest on theotaku (dot) com. Hope you enjoy it! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!...And yes I realize it's a little too early to say that...

Disclaimer: If I did, do you really think I'd be writing this? ...Don't answer that.

Nightmarish Reality

All day long Kurama had had the feeling of being watched. As the feeling increased throughout the day, so, too, did his anxiety. It got to the point where the former thief couldn't keep it hidden, and his family noticed. They had asked him numerous times if he was okay. Each time he had said that he was just tired, that after a little sleep he would feel better. He wished that was all it was, that he was merely tired from a long day and a night of studying.

But he knew that was wishful thinking, and so was on his guard even as he slipped into bed. A rose lay under his pillow, ready for him to use it should the need arise. Even with this precaution, it was late when he finally managed to drift off into a light, uneasy sleep. And it was because his sleep was so light that he felt the shadows in the room shift, felt the very air heat up from bloodlust. It was because of this light sleep that he felt the other person in the room, sensed their approach rather than heard it.

He kept his breathing deep and even, easily faking sleep so as to not alert the intruder to his knowledge of him. The hand under his pillow clenched around a green, thorny stem, his body and energy waiting for his orders.

The intruder, dressed all in black, with not a hint of skin showing, stopped beside the bed. He faced Kurama's back, his breathing so light it might as well not have existed. The only things visible were his eyes, a swirling mixture of gold and green. For a moment he did nothing, merely stared at the redhead sleeping on the bed. Eyes glinting maliciously he raised his hand, a dagger glinting in the light from the streetlamp outside. The only thoughts in his mind were of the glorious red blood he was about to spill, that pure, savory elixir that allowed humans to live. With a muffled hiss he brought the weapon down, prepared to plunge it deep within the sleeper's heart.

A clang was heard throughout the room as the dagger was knocked to the ground, Kurama's rose whip wrapped around the intruder's arm.

"Who are you?" he demanded eyes narrowed and hard, his face calm as it always was in battle. If this had been a human he wouldn't have used his whip, but the aura was a demon's. That made it a whole different story. Instead of answering Kurama, the man merely moved away as the whip suddenly fell off his arm, going limp despite Kurama's attempts to revive it. "What the-?" He rolled out of the bed as the dagger once more came at him, this time piercing the mattress.

Seeing that he wasn't going to get an answer from the man, Kurama threw the now useless whip away. Instead, he flicked a death plant seed at him, praying to Inari that the shadows hid his movement. Emerald eyes widened when the seed sprouted in midair, before it even reached the intruder. Shock and fear mixed together in his body.

Twice, he thought numbly. Twice he's been able to block my attacks. How in the seven hells... Footsteps brought him out of his thoughts, his body automatically dodging the slashes of that shining weapon. As he looked into those dual-colored eyes, a never before felt panic and fear welled up inside of him, threatening to overpower his mind. With a gasp Kurama turned and ran out, slamming the door behind him. The logical part of his mind was yelling at him to stay, to fight back, but the more human side of it was screaming even louder, telling him to get the hell out of there before something happened. So he listened to that.

I can't beat him. He dodged my attacks twice, he'll do it again. He's not human so run...run...RUN!

Knowing the door wouldn't hold the intruder for long, he ran to his parent's room and opened it, turning on the light. And stopped in his tracks. How he never heard the scream was beyond him, and how he hadn't heard the sobbing when he was right there was the same way. But there it was, his mother sobbing on the floor, her hands covered in a red liquid that the former kitsune knew so well. But it wasn't this that caused him to stop; no it was something far worse. Lying in front of the black haired woman was the head of her husband, eyes wide open and full of fear, glazed over from death.

Veins and nerves and bone stuck out of the severed neck, while blood still dripped lazily down to the puddle underneath it. Tearing his gaze away from the sight he looked at the bed, almost gagging on the vomit as he saw the rest of the body, the once pure white sheets now tainted with red. Unable to hold it, the redhead choked on the foul tasting substance now inhabiting his throat, covering his chin and some of the floor with his dinner and snacks. Hearing a bang from down the hall, his panic took over again and he frantically grabbing his mother, only vaguely wondering when she had come over to him.

"We've got to grab Shuichi and get out of here," he gasped as he dragged her down the stairs, certain that his brother had been up watching TV once more.

"H-h-he-Oh gods! Shuichi, we have to go back! He's dying! If we don't help him h-he'll-" Her pleas and cries fell on deaf ears as they descended the stairs. Kurama's grip on her was tight, certain that if he let go for even a second she, too, would be on her way to the Spirit World to be judged.

We've got to get out of here. We've got to leave, that madman's after us. He'll kill her...he'll kill her...HE'LL KILL HER!

So he ignored her please and the foul taste that covered his lips. He focused only on the stairs, which seemed to have increased since earlier that day.

And then it happened. He slipped on the middle stair, the smoothness of his socks sliding against that of the carpet. As he fell, he tried to tighten his grip on his mother's hand, and found that he was no longer holding it. He looked back and saw her, saw her in the arms of that shadowy stranger. The next moment he was on the ground at the bottom, staring up at the ceiling. He felt the warm weight of a body on top of him, saw the dark hair at the edge of his vision, felt that warm liquid seeping into his clothes and hair, felt it on his fingers, and was afraid to look. So he didn't.

Instead he stared at the ceiling. But his eyes slid forward, and he found himself looking into a swirling mass of gold and green. And for that instant, he seemed to be sucked into the man, becoming one with him, to feel what he felt. He felt the thrill of the hunt, the lust for blood, and the satisfaction of seeing the slim, sharp blade he carried slipping through the skin like butter. He felt the need to bathe in it, to spread that ruby liquid onto his skin and absorb it, becoming one with the victim.

Before he knew it Kurama was back in his body, and had thrown his mother's off him and was running, running as fast as he could towards the living room. He heard the TV and almost sobbed in relief.

He's still there...he's still there!

A scream tore through the house, one of desperation and despair, and it was only when his throat hurt and his lungs burned for air that he realized he was the one who was causing it. I need to stop...I'll suffocate...But he couldn't stop. All he could do was stand and stare at his stepbrother's body, lying on the couch in a position that, if he had been living, would have been considered impossible. His grief and shock and denial were so great that he didn't notice the tears streaming down his face, nor did he hear the footsteps behind him. But he did feel the hands on his shoulders, and he let himself be turned around, let himself be pressed against the wall.

But as he stared into those eyes, eyes glazed with bloodlust and craze, as the knife was pressed to his throat, as he felt the blade moving, he reached out with a numb hand and pulled off the mask, wanting to see who had ruined the lives of his family. He pulled it off just as the dagger struck the killing blow and saw...himself.

With a gasp Kurama opened eyes that were filled with fear and panic and tears, his breathing labored and ragged. His heart was beating as fast as a butterfly's wings, green orbs seeing nothing. When he saw the white wall and felt himself laying on something soft, he began to calm down, working hard to regain his normal state of mind.

I'm safe...we're all safe and alive...it was only a dream.

After a few more gulps of air he sat up, relief spreading through him. Only to fly back out as his eyes met the unnaturally bent body of his brother, an exact replica of his dream. He frantically stood, unable to take his eyes off the horrible sight.

YYHYYHYYH

Crimson eyes opened and pale, chapped lips curled into a smirk as Hiei heard the grief- and horror-stricken scream that came from the house beside the tree he was in. He replaced the bandanna over his jagan and flitted off, leaving his puppet to discover the dagger in his hand and the corpses of his family, the house an exact replica of the "dream."

Ending A/N: Okay, now I know you people are saying "Hiei would never do that!" Allow me to explain. In this fic, the jagan on Hiei's head has a seperate energy, and during this time the jagan took over Hiei and forced him to control Kurama. Alright? Oh, and Kurama's little brother's name is Shuichi as well right? Me not sure...

Kurama:...Shadow would like me to inform you that if you want her to continue this she will.

Shadow: Adios!