Gratitude to the betas Kaikouken and Argonautica. They make the fic all readable and nice~

Memory lane

Once, the great search led Frankenstein to London at the turn of the 15th century. He remembered the grisly plot to usurp government in their despotism, and listening to the people in the following days claw the perpetrators apart.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November, of gunpowder, treason and plot.

Guy Fawkes: the epitome of patriots, or crazed extremist terrorist? It didn't matter in the end, because he was caught. For days on end, the Tower of London echoed with the sounds of his screams.

Some centuries on, apparently the later generations would come to an agreement—Guy Fawkes was being celebrated, and not the survival of King James I's government. But in 1606, amid a barrage of fireworks, a great bonfire was lit in commemoration, either in gratefulness or in warning. Why not celebrate the day government didn't blow up? Hundreds would flock to the squares, gawking at nothing more than a stack of dry wood on fire.

He was there once, shoved into the centre of the crowd as people convulsed around him and the heat of the bonfire made him clammy. He watched the flames rise, and dance, scrawling up the pile of deliberate wreckage until it enclosed everything in fire: the ground, the air and the hay-stuffed, scarecrowish visage of Mister Guy Fawkes. The buttons on his face melted, the woollen wig on his head singed away, and the hundred cheering voices became one, joyous shriek.

It was in this moment, when his throat clenched up, his hands furled into fists, that Frankenstein felt he was breathing in ashes. Burning up from the inside out.

He'd been here before. Yes. Where had he been here before? Frankenstein gasped in the ashen smoke: inhaling in cinders, Guy Fawkes—

And a boy with blonde hair.

Dark spear blossomed awake. That boy?

And with one more push forward by the crowd, one more step towards the fire, he clenched his eyes shut. He went blind. When he opened them again, the chants were louder, the smoke blacker, and he knew why. He could smell it in the air and he remembered it clear as yesterday. The smell of smouldering flesh.

"WITCH!

"Witch! Witches!"

Yes, he'd been here before.

"SPAWN OF THE DEVIL!"

"God's wounds, filth! Burn in HELL!"

Just like this.

"WITCH-CUR!"

Circa 1560 AD was a less forgiving time than most.

The first of the witch hunts had spilled over into the Germanic lands, and the air was filled with the shrill screams of countrymen demanding peace, purification, and some damned good entertainment. He saw row by rows of women: their eyes bruised, their cheeks harrowed with finger nails missing and rope burns drawing blood. They were beaten half-mad, unable to even "confess": teeth plucked, tongues cut and limp limbs bound to row by row of stakes, forcing their skins white from loss of circulation. At their feet, hay piles adorned the make-shift stages like a crown, and they were cheered on by an audience of hundreds. He watched them light up with fire and scream, scream; and he knew now why Dark Spear screamed too. They scorched until their skin became flakes and blood became boiled; until their bodies grew chapped and their bones were blackened.

On that day, humanity was sick and he was human. And every time he closed his eyes, a million voices were joined by one other, a higher, younger, and oh-so familiar one.

'Professor! You have to get away from here — the elders are saying they will kill you! Prof…you knew?'

"...Tesamu..."

He closed his eyes and Tesamu was the one up on that stage, engulfed by those flames and burning alive until his screams rang hoarse.

So they've killed you after all?

"TESAMU!"

Frankenstein doubled over, retching convulsively, emptying the contents of his supper onto the footprint-embedded dirt.

"Oi! Good grace, we've a man down here, step back you all ought to!"

"What the-"

"Filth-"

"You alright sir?"

"Outta the wa-"

Tesamu.

"F-fine," he slurred. "No such thing..." he mumbled.

Professor

"…Mister?"

"No—"

Ffrankenstein?

"...no such thing... as witches... innocent."

He spat on the ground, expecting blood when there was none.

"Innocent..."

He got up.

The myriad of faces enclosing him began to sway and move and he held on with his knees as the ground lurched beneath him. As sudden as a firework in the sky, and all at once, the eras caught up with him; the stakes shrivelled back into the ground, the scorched women faded away, the screams transformed back into cheers:

"Remember, remember, the fifth of November!"

Ah yes. Guy Fawkes. Bonfire commemoration. Really? A bonfire? How sentimental. And irrational.

"Of gunpowder, treason, and plot!"

Frankenstein looked up.

Guy Fawkes was gone. From above the crowd, the fire cackled louder and the people were moving back, giving him space. Yet steadily, the flames crept nearer.

He opened his mouth to gag, but nothing came out.

No.

The pile of wood bloomed into a mountain of corpses, and he couldn't make a sound when he tried to scream. His voice, stolen. The corpses piled up, piled up, and through the cinders he could see just enough clearly. At the peak of the pile there were the blistering remains of people he didn't know yet.

1606 AD, and he could see a man with werewolf's fur. A man with short hair, and another with long. A pair that could be siblings — all in strange clothes. Fire ravaged them and they would singe away until they became all the same. Broken and bashed, scorched and scorned. His mouth was open and he was tasting their ashes, trying to yell, but even the crowd became mute. They ogled on in silence.

The stake began to change, now it was a cross and he didn't want to look, couldn't bear to look; he begged Dark Spear not to make him look. Cadis Etrama di Raizel was sprawled upon the stake, his arms tied back, thorns cutting into his wrists, faded eyes open yet unseeing. Fire scorched back his youthful veneer, boring out white, white skull out from torn and tattered cheek.

"Ah,

"ah…

"Ah!"

He couldn't scream.

"Professor?" "Tesamu."

"I want to learn more so that I can help lots of people, just like you do…

"Just like you do."

"Frankenstein."

You can't save them all.

You can't save these people.

"Frankenstein. Wake up!"

You can't save anyone.

Something broke, and gasped aloud. It wasn't like before. When he woke up, and he would, they would still be there. Gejutel's boy — Regis, Miss Seira, Takeo, Tao and M-21. But not the boy.

"Master, I'm here."

Frankenstein subsided, let go his panic, and followed his Master's voice out of the dream.

He was a dreamer. And he wondered, so often through the ages:

How did Tesamu die?

"Frankenstein — hear my voice, and I command you,

"Wake up."

"Hhh!"

He opened his eyes. Crystal blue met crimson red.

"Master."

Bile shot up, escaping through the entrance of his throat, and he found his stomach muscles were stiff from hurling in the dreamscape. It was always so real. He swallowed the sour-sweet juice down. It left his tongue bitter. When it sprang back up again, he made a focused effort to not clench his eyes as he retched over his tightly closed mouth. Only a low churn caught in his oesophagus, and he desperately hoped it wasn't loud enough to hear. He didn't even dare clear his throat.

Frankenstein shuffled weakly, trying to prop himself up. To his utter horror, Raizel braced a hand on his sweat-damp back, a hand on his arm, and lifted him into a sitting position. "No-I…I can move." Raizel let go, quickly, and Frankenstein bit into his cheek. He moved wearily on the test slab, swinging his feet stiffly over the edge as if somehow a dozen wounds littered his body.

And embers still burned his throat.

Soot and sick smeared all over, inside him.

"Frankenstein," Raizel murmured anxiously. "How do you feel?"

Frankenstein clutched his hands onto the sides of the test slab, hiding the quake in his knuckles.

"I feel alright now. Thank you, Master," he stated, creakily.

"…Dark Spear had pulled you deep, this time. I had trouble…calling you back. Can you remember what happened before you slept?"

Frankenstein nodded once. "The school…I fought a man with a mask. Dark Spear wanted to be let out, but they weren't. You said…" The realisation dawned on him coldly. "You said, Master…that you would make it so I had a dreamless sleep."

Raizel hung his head.

"Is this…is this my punishment?"

The Noblesse snapped up. "No!" He looked at Frankenstein, eyes strangely wide, and gaped. How could he think I would…

"No, Frankenstein. I would never…"

"Forgive me for accusing!" Frankenstein looked equally mortified. "I…please forget I ever said that. I'm sorry."

"Frankenstein…" Raizel muttered, "this is my failure. I let myself be distracted and I didn't come to your aid. I am so sorry."

"No-" Frankenstein stared back, looking troubled. He swallowed down. "If I apologise again…can you…not?"

"No."

"Hh."

Raizel relaxed a little, almost slouching beside him. Frankenstein swallowed again, trying to rid his greasy saliva of that sourish taste.

"But to be perfectly honest, Master, if you wanted to punish me you shouldn't have woken me up. It defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" he said lightly.

"Don't-" Raizel started. He laid a hand onto the test slab, and it curled into a fist. "-don't ever joke about that, Frankenstein. Your anguish is not humorous. Dark Spear tortures you enough, and I won't ever let them have you." He sighed. "They cannot have you."

"I'm yours."

It was sharp, piercing, a knife-tip of a thought, but as soon as another something flashed through Frankenstein's mind, they both froze. Both men stared at one another, looking as if they didn't know what to do next.

"Yo, Bosses? What exactly am I doing? Like, I woke up and the guy was gone…" Tao stopped in his tracks. "…Boss…es?…Are you OK?"

"Marvellous, Tao," Frankenstein exclaimed, jumping off the test slab energetically. "What do you mean? What guy?"

"Ah—"

In a half-second, Raizel's eyes flared red, catching Tao's sight. He shook his head, pleadingly.

"—noope. Nope, um…I was up late and I was waiting for…the mail…to…arrive," he finished, stupidly. "Online purchase," he added.

Frankenstein eyed him suspiciously, but then loosened up. "You've being awfully lenient with your pay check, lately. Tao, I want you to go check the school's security footage. Do a full sweep. I want eyes on everything."

"Er, Boss?" he piped up, a little more than confused. Waking up on the floor and Sir Raizel being weird and then this? "I checked it all last week. I mean, security in the courtyards and the major places. Can't I just wait a month?" Isn't it too early?

"No!"

Tao took a step back at his tone.

"You can't just wait a month." Frankenstein's voice was dangerously low, and he seemed to realise this as well. Something closed behind his eyes. He drew back, flicking a few oddly twitchy fingers through his hair. A lurid tongue rolled back as he swallowed again. The taste stuck to the walls of his mouth.

"Ehem. Tao. Just — I need you to check the footage because of funny business reported by the parents, last night. The school's publicity depends on it," he lied. "I don't have the specific details, but I need you to do this."

"Ok. Got it, Boss. On it already." Tao meant, later.

"Thank you. Now if you'll bring Master up for some tea, I'll wash up and cook breakfast."

Tao shot a weary grin at Raizel.

The three of them walked away, Raizel stiller than usual, watching Frankenstein avert his eyes the entirety of the elevator journey. Like he'd said something he couldn't take back.

I really liked this alternate title, but I thought it might have spoiled the first part of the chapter - 'Dream within a dream within a memory.'

Laryna6, Kaikouken, Tears, Guest, Elims, kryliadarr, pinkpigflying, XxDarkBeautyxX and ColdApril,

Thank you very much for your support and reviews, I read them, smile like an idiot during class, and then read them again and again and again. Next chapter will be a long one~