Gasping awake, tears in his eyes and breathing erratic, Alfred jolted into a sitting position. From there he scrambled onto his feet and frantically looked around for anything but it was obvious there was no one there with him. The basket was sideways on the ground from where he must have dropped it, the jar of herbs safely in one piece.

Disoriented by the sudden change of environment, Alfred cautiously picked up the basket and jar. Was that a dream? A vision? What the hell happened? He was just about to call for Matthew and Francis when he stopped. What if...?

"No!" he said to himself. They would never hurt him like that.

Abandoning the search for more herbs, he started walking back to where he and the werewolves had parted ways, calling for them all the while.

After a few minutes of walking in an increasingly darkening forest, he heard a twig snap. Freezing mid step, Alfred stared into the bushes where he thought it had come from. Didn't this happen before—?

"Alfred?"

Crying out in fear at the sudden voice, Alfred spun around and saw Ivan. Forgetting his previous discomfort he knocked Ivan to the ground with the speed at which he launched himself at him. "Oh Ivan you have no idea how happy I am to see you. I had this crazy dream or something—" He cut himself off at the annoyed sigh Ivan let out. Looking up in confusion, Alfred saw that Ivan looked irritated. He was about to say something when the world flipped upside down and he found the breath knocked out of him. Ivan had roughly flipped him over onto his back and was now leaning over him, pinning him to the ground.

"Is everything about you?" Ivan hissed. "I've been in more troublesome situations in the two months I've met you than in twenty years of my life. Why do you have to be so annoying and get hurt all the time?"

Speechless at what he was hearing, Alfred just stared.

"Speechless? For once at least. I like you much better when you shut your fat mouth and just look pretty." The words stung and Alfred finally managed to choke out, "I-Ivan, how can you say that? After all the time we've spent together?" Snorting, Ivan leaned down to glare at him. "Isn't it obvious? I was lying. I thought you were going to be easy prey but you proved more difficult than you're worth. So now I'm going to do what I should have done when I met you."

He felt Ivan grip his hands with one of his and bring his now free hand back, fingers closed and nails sharp. Horrified that Ivan meant to kill him, he started struggling. "W-Wait! Please! You don't want to do this!" He begged. Laughter and then searing pain in his chest and then—!

Startling awake, this time with his face to the ground, Alfred just breathed.

For maybe ten minutes he laid there, breathing and occasionally blinking. Why is this happening? He thought to himself, over and over until the words lost meaning. Getting to his feet, he looked around. Nobody was there, but something had to be causing these...whatever they were.

He walked on though he was hesitant to do so. What if the real Matthew or Francis find me but I don't believe it's them? How can they prove they're real? How can I? Nonetheless he continued to try and find his family, calling out their names and walking towards the place they separated. Instead of a twig snapping it was the rustling of a bush that stopped him. He was almost inclined to ignore the bush and search on, but before he could come to a decision on what to do, his father stumbled out of the foliage.

"Damn roots—Alfred! There you are! Come on, we have to go right now, something has happened that I didn't anticipate." Arthur made to grab his arm but he moved it out of the way. Backing up, Alfred shook his head. "No."

"No? What do you mean 'no'! I told you to do something and I don't have time to waste on your defiance, so get over yourself and do as you're told," Arthur said. Gritting his teeth, Alfred glared at his 'father.' There had been a time when Alfred had opposed nearly everything Arthur said to him. They hadn't gotten along well at all during that time, and on numerous occasions Alfred had left for a couple of days, just to cool down. But he always came back, and though it happened many times, the reassurance that Arthur was there and waiting for him, always willing to take him back in, was nice and showed him that Arthur cared about him no matter his faults and failures.

Arthur's words were exactly how he'd spoken to Alfred all those years ago when he'd tried controlling everything in his life on a fit of paranoia, though over what he wouldn't say. Alfred couldn't help but to return to that time, in a sense, and feel the same way.

"I said no," he stated, making sure there was no waiver in his voice, "Something's been happening to me and I can't be sure you're you. It's happened twice already and I don't want it to happen again."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "There you go, spinning tales and excuses for your own idiotic behavior. Why can't you take responsibility for once and act like an adult."

"I am an adult! Why can't you be happy with the life I'm living instead of berate me at every turn?! I just want you to be proud of me and all you ever do is look down on my achievements!" He was getting too into it with someone who was most likely not even real but the words couldn't be stopped. He was being serious and truthful, and the knowledge that this was fake let him say the words he'd been too afraid of saying in the past.

"An adult? You barely remember to take your wallet with you when you go out, and you still have trouble tying a tie. How can you say you're an adult when you act like a child every damn day!"

"Maybe it makes me feel human!"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know you're not human; you're better than those weak, disease-filled meat sacks. You shouldn't lower yourself to their level my boy."

"You're not understanding! Maybe I don't want to be something other than human. I never asked to be an Angel, and I never asked to be saved. I should have died that day with my mother."

Walking angrily up to him, Arthur slapped him across the cheek. "You selfish brat. How dare you say that when I spent all my life caring for you and raising you, only for you to turn out a disappointment. If you want to live your life then go! No one will miss you."

Eyes wet with tears of frustration and his heart feeling like it was being stabbed, Alfred tackled Arthur to the ground and started shaking him. "Shut up! Shut up! You're not real! All of this is fake!" After a while he stopped shaking Arthur and let him go. His eyes were closed and the ground was turning dark beneath his head. Closing his eyes, Alfred waited for his dream/vision/whatever the fuck it was to be over.

When he opened his eyes it was to his father's corpse.

Unwilling to believe what that meant, he closed his eyes again, squeezing them shut in the hopes of opening them to the night sky or the grassy forest floor. No such luck the second time, so he tried again and again until his head was hurting with how hard he was closing his eyes.

"No..." he whispered, horrified at what he'd done, "No! Dad, dad! Wake up, please! I-I didn't mean it. I'm sorry! Oh God, please, just...please open your eyes, I-I'm so-orry." His father's skin was cold to the touch, and his chest neither rose nor fell. Alfred put his hand to Arthur's neck, to feel for a pulse, but when he felt none he retracted his hand like it'd been burned.

Scurrying away from the body of his dead father on his hands and feet, Alfred collapsed with his back to a tree and cried into his hands. He distantly heard laughter before he blacked out.

The awakening this time was not sudden. He was on his back, and when he opened his eyes he saw the starry night above him.

Everywhere Matthew looked, even with his eyesight enhanced in his wolf form, provided no cover, no hiding place with which to escaped the hunters. A flash of flannel here would make him switch directions sharply; the glint of a rifle ahead of him would make him skid to a stop and bolt the other way.

No matter where he went there were hunters waiting for him, laughing and reloading there guns. Shaking his head to chase away the taunting laughter, Matthew failed to notice a rifle aiming for him and paid the price. A sharp pain in his side had him tumbling down a small ledge and into a tree.

Blinking his eyes to clear away the blurriness and struggling to get back up on all fours, the pain in his side was too great and he collapsed back down on his stomach. The hunters closed in and he prayed his death would be quick.

Right as the shot went off he startled awake. Whining, Matthew picked himself up off the ground and started running again. For awhile he'd been running, only to get caught in another illusion. Whoever was casting them was very skilled; the illusions were of a very good quality and no matter what he did—whether it be fight back, surrender, or run—they always ended the same; him dying.

He was making good time back to where he, Francis, and Alfred had separated, but he wasn't going as quickly as he'd like. Every now and then, between the illusions, he'd here Alfred calling for them, and once he'd even heard Francis howl.

He didn't know how many more of these illusions he could take. Already he'd had to kill his family, be killed by his friends, kill the students at the school he worked in, and be hunted. Those were his greatest fears, and if his guess was correct then whoever or whatever was doing this to them was trying to wear them down. But for what?

At least, he assumed Alfred and Francis were trapped as well. Francis's howl had been one of mourning and sadness, so he could safety assume Francis was trapped. But what of his brother? Alfred was calling for them but what if he was just done collecting the herbs? Either way he hoped Alfred wasn't trapped and he desperately hoped that whoever was doing this to them didn't know what Alfred was.

He was familiar with illusions, and despite how well put together these were, he could find a way around them. With Arthur being a mage, he'd showed Francis all about recognizing them and countering them. Certain herbs would ward away evil; even if the illusions themselves weren't evil, their intent was.

Still, he had to suffer a few while he sniffed out the right herbs to carry on his person—er, wolf. One of those had been a combination of two of his worst fears; losing control of himself, and killing Arthur. The illusion had been the second one, so he was still unsure if it was true or false, but after that he was sure he was being played with.

The pain of not only losing himself to the wolf but also killing the man he loved was enough to affect him after the illusion was over. As was customary of wolves, he let his sorrow be known through a mourning howl, one that scratched his throat and faltered at the end, conveying the sadness in his heart. Not wanting to encounter another like that he set out to find the herbs as quickly as possible. Once collected, the illusions could be seen. It was a section of forest that looked blurred, and with it exposed, Francis could easily walk around it.

His next task was to find Matthew and Alfred. He'd heard nothing from Matthew yet, but he did hear Alfred calling for them. Whether it was because he was done and ready to return home or because he'd encountered his own fears, Francis did not know. All he knew was that they had to get away from the forest, and quickly, before they ended up dead.

A call close to his position, from Alfred, had him running quicker, barely avoiding some illusions in his haste to reach his son. He spotted Alfred about to wander into another illusion and called out, "Alfred, stop!" He barked too, just to be sure he got the Angel's attention.

Alfred's head snapped to his direction and he thankfully stopped right before the trap. Slowing to a crawl, Francis approached the wary man.

"Francis? Is that you? I-I...how do I know you're you?" Ah, so he had experienced the traps. "Calm down Alfred, I can hear your heart racing from here." He sat on his hindquarters and waited for Alfred to do something.

"Can you prove you're really Francis?" Alfred asked uncertainly. It seemed he wanted to get away as fast as possible. He was also rubbing at his shoulder blade, which Francis found strange. "I can, but you must trust me. I know you are brave Alfred; if you let me I can help you see the truth."

"A-Alright. How?"

He lifted his paw to his mouth and gently tugged off the pouch he'd made from the sweater he'd been wearing before he'd transformed. In it held the herbs which made the tricks visible. "There are herbs in here that will help you see the boundaries of each illusion, so that you may avoid them." He dropped the pouch on the ground and backpedaled until he thought he was far enough away to not scare Alfred further.

Cautiously, Alfred approached the pouch. "Take a handful and put it in your pocket. Then turn around." Francis instructed. With one last glance at Francis, Alfred hastily opened the pouch and grabbed the herbs. Straightening up to stare once again at Francis, Alfred put the herbs in his pocket and turned around.

"What am I supposed to be seeing?" he said. Everything looked normal except for one section of the forest in front of him. Maybe his glasses were dirty. "Do you not see the blurred section? That is a waiting illusion." At the doubtful look on Alfred's face, Francis sighed and laid on the ground. "If you do not believe me then walk into the blurriness; we will look for Matthew when you awaken."

Stubborn as always(and how Francis knew him to be)Alfred accepted and walked into the illusion...and promptly collapsed. Shaking his head, Francis took the moment to catch his breath and keep an ear out for Matthew.

It was a relatively short trap, as Alfred sprung awake not five minutes later. Wide-eyed, he took in his surroundings and noticed Francis, who remained in his position save for lifting his head. "Do you see? And now the blur is gone." As Francis pointed this out Alfred looked around and confirmed; the blur had indeed been the cause of his illusion.

"Alright," Alfred said, standing up and walking towards Francis, "I believe you." He would have smiled if he could, but as a large dog he could do no such thing, so instead he nodded. "Good. Now let's find Matthew."

Just when he thought it was only the illusions he had to worry about, the feeling of being watched continued outside the illusions. Everywhere he went, no matter the direction, the feeling of eyes upon him did not falter. And it was seriously starting to freak him the fuck out. How could he tell dream from reality when every second felt like a dream?

After twenty solid minutes of cautious walking, he realized that he had not been drawn into a trap in a while. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and that unnerved him. Then the traitorous thought that Maybe I'm in an illusion already came to his mind and freaked him out all the more. His ears heard every little sound; his eyes saw every swaying shadow.

A few more minutes and he picked up the sound of running water, like a stream of some kind. Running had made him thirsty, but his instinct to survive had been more important than his hunger and thirst. But now that he knew not if he was sleeping or awake, he supposed getting a drink couldn't hurt.

Oh how wrong he would be.

It was not a stream he'd heard but a small waterfall, which lead into a serene looking pool, made ominous by the lone figure standing in the middle of it on top of the water. Fog he had not noticed was surrounding it and himself, cutting off his line of sight anywhere past the tree line of the small clearing the pool was in. Already on high alert, Matthew thought he might pass out if something startled him. Not knowing if he should talk to it(or if it could even understand him)he chanced it and called out to it. "Hello?" he asked, not caring if his voice trembled. The figure turned its head, looking at him with one eye visible. "Hello Matthew." She spoke. The voice was distinctly female and sounded much to high to belong to a women of that height. It sounded like a young girl.

The words rang loudly through his head, causing him to drop to the ground and cover his ear with his paws, whining all the while. The words coated his mind in a thick fog, making it difficult for him to think straight. "H-How d-do you...kn-know my...name," he managed to stutter out. The fog was not only making it hard for him to think but harder for him to form coherent sentences as well. He feared he might be paralyzed should he not be saved.

"Matthew, I know much about you; your greatest fears, your family, your creation at the hands of a rogue wolf, everything about you that makes you you." Matthew struggled to lift his head, but when he did he saw the women was walking towards him.

The first thing he noticed was that she had no face.

She wore black and red ropes(the red he hoped wasn't blood), which were torn in many places. Her skin was a very pale white and looked unmarred, despite the state of her clothing. Long black hair framed her blank face. She also had thorned vines winding about her: on her wrists, her ankles, her neck, and her chest. The vines were an unhealthy black.

"St...ay a-away fro-om...me," Matthew slurred. She laughed. "No, Matthew. I think we are going to spend some time together."

"We are close," Francis said, sniffing the ground then the air. There was an evil aura close by as well. He knew that, no matter how much he wished otherwise, Matthew was with or near that aura. He and Alfred had been walking for about twenty minutes, following a trail of scent Francis had picked up. According to him Matthew had been there recently, so they must have been close.

Glancing around and shivering, Alfred rubbed at his arms. "Something is...not right, around here. There's an evil I can't explain nearby...It's feels like there are two auras mixed, like one has taken over the other," Alfred said, bumping into Francis. Francis was in front of Alfred, nodding along to his words until the part about the two auras together. He'd stopped suddenly, thus causing Alfred to bump into him.

"Two auras mixed? That is...very difficult to achieve, to say the least. You might be right about one taking the other over, which means we are dealing with a possessed witch." Alfred looked down at him. "What makes you say it's a witch? They aren't the only ones who can cast illusion spells, right? Mages can do that too."

Walking again, much faster this time, Francis agreed, "You are right about that, but witches are infinitely better at them. Some even dedicate their studies to it. The fact that we couldn't tell when the illusion started tells me that this is a powerful witch."

"Do you think it has Mattie?"

"I do not know, only pray it does not."

This time it was Alfred who stopped, reaching out to grasp Francis's fur. "Francis," he whispered, "I think I can fell them."

"And?"

Motioning for Francis to follow him, Alfred turned right, away from the trail they were following, to a thick cluster of trees. Francis noticed how foggy it had become but Alfred seemed undisturbed, which was strange for one so frightened by horror movies, as Alfred was.

They pushed as silently as possible through the trees to the other side, where they remained hidden to observe the creature looming over—Matthew! "What do we do?" Alfred whispered. Francis did not respond. Alfred didn't notice for a few seconds, then whispered, "Francis?" and looked over to see him starting at Matthew and the strange creature. "Francis?" Alfred said slowly, glancing between him and the witch, "Are you okay?"

As if he was paralyzed, he could only see Matthew on the ground with the witch over him. Alfred, his surroundings, everything else was blocked out. Matthew, his little boy, was in trouble, and if he didn't do something, that witch would do the second best thing witches did: suck out his soul. He would not let Matthew die, not here and not now.

Growling, caution thrown to the wind to give way to parental protectiveness, Francis sprung from the trees and attacked the witch.

Startled by Francis's attack, Alfred shouted "No! Wait!" but it went unheard. The witch was also taken by surprise, seeming to float along the water as she(Alfred could clearly see the long hair and feminine figure)drew back, away from her prey and Francis. Slapping a hand to his forehead, Alfred cursed the situation, but also stepped out of the cover of the trees and joined the wolves.

Standing in front of Matthew and next to Francis, Alfred finally got a good look at her. Only what he saw confused him. He could see the face(or lack of one) and he could see the long hair and vines. But there was an underlying image, one of a young girl with short blonde hair, one purple ribbon on the side, sleeping. Was she the witch, and the faceless puppet controlling her? She looked to calm and peaceful to be a threat.

"Who are you?" Alfred demanded, "What do you want with us?"

The woman did not respond, only stare in their direction(he thought so at least; she had no eyes, after all). Finally her head titled slightly to the side, as if in confusion. "What are you?" She said, her voice not matching the outward appearance she bore. It fit the young girl much better.

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked warily. He knew it would be stupid to advertise his status as Angel; as he'd learned, that would only attract creatures to kill him.

She ignored his question. "I thought I would get a werewolf; instead I get two and a surprise. Am I not lucky?" Then the blank surface of her face tore apart to reveal a twisted smile and sharp, fang-like teeth. Francis was the first to move. He stepped up to the waters ledge, placing his paw on the reflective surface. It did not go under. Instantly he bolted at the possessed witch, jumping and clawing at her. While she certainly looked threatening, and spoke as if superior, it was obvious she was struggling to deflect the claws and teeth aimed towards her.

Hearing a whine, Alfred turned around and saw Matthew sitting up. He was blinking his eyes and shaking his head. "Matthew? Are you hurt?" Matthew looked at him for a moment, then out to the battle, then back at him, blinking slowly. "Matt? You there?" Matthew shivered, then stood up properly.

"...Alfred? What happened? How and when did you get here?"

"Francis figured out it was a witch trapping us in illusions, and one possessed at that. We got here just as she was about to do something to you. Francis jumped out of our hiding spot for no reason and attacked her, but she retreated to the water." Glancing back at the fight, Alfred again was drawn to the underlying image of the young girl. Her aura was dimmed, but a nice pink color. The thing possessing her radiated a black aura of evil. Maybe he could purify...

Matthew jumped when the spread of wings nearly knocked him over. Startled, he looked over to see Alfred's markings glowing brightly in the dim lighting of the moon. His wings were out as well. "Alfred...?"

"Matthew," Alfred said, not looking away from the witch, "Go help Francis; distract the witch if you can." His words held a finality in them that commanded Matthew not question him, so he didn't. Stretching quickly, he ran to join the fight and tell Francis to distract her instead; he guessed they were to distract her from Alfred.

He got to the witch, jumping on her back and clawing down it, adding tears to her robes, though no blood. She did not scream either; she made no sound at all. It was like she was a machine, one that didn't feel and only worked until told otherwise. He jumped off her when the vines dug into his paws, piercing the soft pads there, drawing blood.

He landed by Francis, who nudged him and licked around his face. It was a comfort they didn't often share in(they were wolves but people most of the time). The witch had to turn her back on Alfred to face them, and that's when he attacked.

Giving one mighty flap, Alfred landed behind her and stabbed her through the chest with a blade of pure energy, right through the heart of both the woman and the girl, the only part of them connected. He spoke words of a language he did not know or understand. The image of the faceless puppet rippled, then melted away to reveal the young girl underneath. He caught her before she could fall, holding her in his arms bridal-style. Pale green eyes blinked open. "You're an Angel," she whispered in awe in German, then passed out.