"Hand in mine, into your icy blues. And then I'd say to you, 'We could take to the highway'. With this trunk of ammunition, too. I'd end my days with you, in a hail of bullets. I'm trying; I'm trying, to let you know just how much you mean to me. And after all the things we put each other through…"

Nine years later.

Snow was heavily falling, the sun reflecting off it and nearly blinding anyone who dared to look out their window. It was the first big blizzard of the year, yet everyone was tucked into their houses – too cold to play outside. Everyone that is… except for him. The snow was knee-deep, but he didn't care, just kept trudging on. Something was calling to him, a voice that carried through the sky and to his ears, his heart clenching every time he heard it.

"Logan… Help…" it called, but the tone of urgency was missing from the voice. It sounded hard, cold as the snow around him – it was not how he remembered her. His knees were shaking, it was much too cold for anyone to even think of being outside, but the voice kept him going, carried him towards the outskirts of his hometown. A bright blue paper flew up, carried by the wind, and the voice suddenly halted. The paper flowed about until it hit his chest, the wind pressing it to him. With shaking hands, he picked it up, the familiar face staring back at him – wide-eyed. "MISSING. WOULD NOW BE EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD." The title screamed at him, and his stomach clenched in response to seeing her face. Suddenly, the voice screamed out, a high-pitched screech that made him wince and cover his ears, and there she was, the girl that had haunted him since that fateful Saturday evening. She looked exactly as he had last seen her, tall for a nine-year old, with her curly brown hair, sharp eyes and ripped up green dress. "Logan..." she called softly, the screeching stopping, and he found himself giving in, taking another step closer…

Logan jumped, breathing coming out in short pants, his stomach clenching tightly again. With a groan, he ran out of bed and to the bathroom, getting sick almost instantly. Coughing, he flushed the toilet and slammed the lid shut, still sitting on the bathroom floor as he moved to lean against the wall, one hand clutching his forehead and pushing his hair back.

He tried to convince himself it was just a dream - that he was back in his Palm Wood's apartment in L.A., not in the woods back home. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her face out of his head, couldn't stop hearing her whisper of a voice at his ear. Taking a big breath of air, he slowly stood up, moving to place his hands on the counter and lean on them, glaring at his reflection in the wide mirror.

It had been nine years since he'd seen Willow Patterson – nine years since anyone had seen her. In fact, the nightmares were the only thing that kept her sharp in his memory, although he hadn't had once since last night in two months – a new record for him. Sometimes they were mild, like the one he'd just had, but other time there were horrible, gory ones that belonged in a horror movie and not in his mind. Even though he had always wanted to keep a positive image of his friend in his head to remember her by, the nightmares and constant feeling of guilt made it hard for him to remember the good times, made it hard for him to remember ever even liking her. A soft knock on the door made him snap out of his thoughts, and he glanced up at the door.

"Logan?" Carlos asked from the other side and Logan sighed in relief. Since him and Carlos shared a room, he was the only one who had the faintest idea of the turmoil he used to go through every night, and he was used to Logan getting sick from the images he encountered in the morning. "You alright?" He quickly washed his hands, frowning at the dark circles under his eyes in the mirror.

"Fine." He replied shortly, not bothering with drying his hands and just wiping them on his sweatpants, opening the door, and Carlos gave him a 'you're not fooling any of us' look before turning and walking towards the kitchen. Logan sighed, decided he'd tell him about it later, and followed, flinging a cabinet door open once in the kitchen, looking for Excedrin or really anything to stop the splitting headache he could feel coming on. The guys all looked up at him, not used to seeing him showing any sort of anger like he now was. "Where the hell is it..." he grumbled to himself, rummaging through the cluttered medicine shelf before he finally found it, dry swallowing the pill quickly before coming to sit down at the table with everyone else. Katie walked in then, taking one look at Logan and rolling her eyes as she walked over to the fridge.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked, pushing the milk carton out of the way and pulling out the orange juice.

"Dunno." James replied dully, still half-asleep as he messed with his hair, using the window across from him as a mirror, although he could just barely make out his reflection. Carlos remained quiet, not wanting to share my nightmares with my permission.

"He," Logan began, narrowing his eyes at her slightly as she poured herself a glass. "Just got sick, and is definitely not in the mood for sarcasm." Kendall looked up, raising his eyebrows at Logan. They had recording today, and if he was sick, that meant there was pretty much no point in going.

"You okay?" He asked, really meaning 'You wanna stay home and piss Gustavo off?'. Logan nodded, he'd been forced to sing after a nightmare before, and he could make it through a few hours as long as Gustavo didn't scream too much. They all ate breakfast quietly, as least it was quiet to Logan, who drowned most of the conversation for that morning out, flashes of the nightmare repeating every time he shut his eyes.

Still groggy, the four of them reluctantly went down to the recording studio, where Gustavo went on a five minute rant about how cold his coffee was, all the while the guys rolled their eyes and mumbled quietly among themselves, used to this type of behavior.

"Kelly! Where is she!" Gustavo practically growled out, referring to the fact that Kelly was two minutes late (which seemed like an hour in Gustavo's mind) and she was never late.

"Sorry, sorry!" She called as she ran in, clipboard clutched to her chest like always. Gustavo just snorted and waved his hand at us to let us know it was time to get ready. Logan glanced up, noticing a slender form hesitating in the door way, Gustavo followed his gaze, and raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat and looking at Kelly. "Oh!" she said, flustered, and waved the person in.

Logan's breath caught, making some sort of sound between a gasp and a cough. Kendall gave him a strange look, but he was past caring, just staring at the person that followed Kelly into the room. She was tall, and appeared so skinny that I feared if she even raised an arm she would snap in half – it was not a healthy skinny. Her thick brown curls were held up in a ponytail, a few loose strands framed her face. Her intense blue eyes glanced around, in an almost fearful manner, and her skin was light, a few freckles dotting the top of her cheeks and nose. She had a pointed nose, and sharp features. Her gaze slid across us finally and she winced, looking down quickly, lips pressed together. Logan took a step back, thinking he was back in the nightmare, stomach clenching so tightly he thought he would vomit right then and there.

"This is... our new intern. Willow." Kelly said, nodding at the girl, and Gustavo pursed his lips in thought, drumming his hands on the table in front of him, not really caring. Willow glanced up, offering a small nod, but her form was trembling, and she refused to look at the guys, her breath coming out in shaky little sighs.

"Willow." Logan hadn't realized he'd muttered the name, and her head snapped up, eyes widening fearfully. "Willow… Patterson?" It took every ounce of courage he had in him to say that name out loud, and slowly the other guys remembered the name, and frowns came across their faces – all except Carlos, who looked a bit freaked out.

Everyone else had thought Willow was weird, Logan having been the only one who would dare talk to her, let alone play with her, and despite what had ended up happening, it was obvious at the slight look of disgust that crosses James' face that he still felt the same way. Willow shook her head quickly and defensively added.

"No. You must be thinking of someone else. My last name is Hopkins." She offered a tight smile, although she still looked scared out of her mind. Gustavo just rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright, can we get started all ready?" James nodded, his face growing back into a grin that was directed at Willow. She wasn't the freak from his childhood, so she was fair game to him. Carlos, Kendall and James walked into the recording booth, having to drag Logan with them.

No matter what she said her last name was, it had to be her. No one else could have that look in her eyes, she was much older, but she was still the same nine-year old girl Logan had left behind in the woods. The beat started playing, and they started singing, Logan not putting much effort into it, all the while staring at Willow through the glass, her gaze casting downwards whenever she spotted him.

Gustavo yelled at him repeatedly, all of his ending notes kept going flat, but he was past caring. Finally, they were given a break and Willow jumped up, running out of the room and offering a hurried 'Gotta go to the bathroom' excuse. Logan walked calmly out the door, although his palms were sweaty and his stomach felt like it was beating him up, as soon as he got to the hall however, he bolted down the hall, catching up to her and grabbing her by the elbow, whirling her around to face him.

"Get the hell off of me!" She exclaimed, pushing at him.

"Willow Hopkins?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at her. "C'mon, that's not fooling anybody."

"I really have no idea what you are talking about." She said, voice barely above a whisper – oh god, that voice, it was so close to the child-like one that haunted him, and it made him weak in the knees. The poor thing looked close to tears, and the feeling of guilt slammed into Logan's chest so forcefully he jumped back, and she ran out the door.

Numbly, he walked back to the recording room, just overhearing James ask Kelly for the 'hot new interns' number, while Kelly was just rolling her eyes.

"James, just leave that poor girl alone." She retorted, sitting back down beside Gustavo, and that's when Logan noticed it, a bright blue flyer sticking out of the garbage can in the corner of the room. He snatched it up, the picture of Willow as a child staring up at him…

And then he couldn't hold it in much longer, and vomited right then and there.

She was back, the girl he'd let slip through his fingers was back.

And Logan had a feeling it wasn't because her kidnappers had all of a sudden grown a heart.

"And I would drive on to the end with you, a liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full. And I feel like there's nothing left to do, but prove myself to you, and we'll keep it running… But this time, I mean it; I'll let you know just how much you mean to me. As snow falls on desert skies, as days fade, and nights grow, and we grow cold…

Until the end, until this pool of blood."

Demolition lovers. My chemical romance.

Short chapter, might suck, I'm currently sneaking on (grounded from the computer) and I only had a little bit of time to write this up. I've noticed a lot of people have this on their alert, but didn't review; silent readers make the author sad! D: please R&R. xx.

J.