Hey there :) I got the prompt 'kitten' on tumblr and this sort of just happened. If things get to confusing, feel free to ask me. I know, my AU-concepts can get out of hand sometimes. It's a sequel to chapter 20 'Nightmare'.

Also, I can reply to reviews again! Yay! x3

Not edited. Not mine apart from the mistakes and the confusing plot-stuff.

You're a nightmare, dressed like a daydream.

When you get back home late at night and suddenly your lights don't work anymore, there's a nightmare waiting for you in the bedroom.

When you hear a raven scream in your hallway, run.

When you catch a feather of the bird, then you'll be free of nightmares for the next seven years.

But when the nightmare catches you stealing, they'll haunt you for the next seven years.

Never take that risk. At least that's what adults like to tell the children of the town.

Magnus wondered if all nightmares were dressed in such a refined way like this one. But in a way it made sense because the other dreams where always bathed in lustrous colors, a beacon of light and luxury and joy five miles through a foggy night. A nightmare wasn't meant for that sort of look. The white mask covering their would often give them away, but what could be read from an expressionless mask? Nothing.

If all nightmares were like this one that was.

He was sitting on the edge of Magnus' narrow bed, when Magnus entered the bedroom. The black pinstripe suit didn't have one wrinkle. The shirt was black as well, like the last time, though the white scarf ad the trench coat was missing. Magnus stared at the nightmare's face, still covered by the white mask that sent goosebumps ghosting across Magnus' skin. There was a raven sitting on hi pillow and his dark eyes carried all the emotion that were washed from the nightmare's mask. Animosity. The bird didn't like him.

"I figured you wouldn't give up," he muttered letting his backpack fall to the floor. For now he decided to ignore the bird.

It had been seven nights since their first meeting at the supermarket and Magnus had spent the following three days jumping at every little sound around him. On the fourth day he had begun to relax again. On the fifth he had smashed a mirror and on the sixth he had gotten drunk.

He was sober now.

"I had to make some preparations," the nightmare answered, his voice like cold silk. He raised one arm, fingertips coming to rest carefully on the mask that looked like carved from marble under the cold moonlight. Thin leather gloves covered his fingers, taking nothing from the grace of the way the fingers moved.

When he pulled the mask away from his face, this time it took a while for it to vanish into what looked like moon dust, not settling anywhere. It just vanished. But that was not what Magnus' eyes were drawn to.

The nightmare's eyes were blue like the last time, almost drenched in an unearthly vibrancy, but then again where were nightmares born anyway? Was there a place in this world for them really? Under the right eye there was a scar that hadn't been there seven nights ago. It was fresh, a kiss of rose against the pale skin and shaped like a bird with spread wings.

"What happened to you?"

The nightmare looked over to the bird sitting on the pillow. "Not me," he whispered. "You remember the time when I tried to touch you the last time? The feathers in the air?"

"Yes." The experience of the whole encounter was burned into Magnus' memory like nothing had been since the sight of his mother when he'd found her all those years ago.

"One of the birds died because of that and this …" The raven on the pillow spread his wings and flapped them in a threatening gesture. For the blink of an eye the bird seemed to grow bigger in the darkness of the moonlit room. Then it was over. The nightmare carefully touched the scar beneath his eye. "This is the sign of a newborn bird. Taking the place of the last one."

Blue eyes shot a quick glance to the raven and Magnus remembered the other telling him wanted to get rid of the birds like they were his shackles. There was a sense of hopelessness in the lines of the nightmare's shoulders, that Magnus could relate to - or maybe understand at least. The other was shackled since birth and no matter how often he smashed the shackles or the chains, they would grow back, like the head of the hydra.

"That's why you need help? You can't break them, you have to loose them." Magnus was confronted with pleading eyes. It was a kiss of ice and Magnus knew he would help.

"Do you have a name?"

"No."

"Don't you think that's a bit unfair?"

"No."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"You won't have to."

The nightmare's voice took on an excited tone as he rose from the bed, brushing invisible dust from his pants. Magnus watched him with pursed lips. He hated it to be shut down like that.

"I could give you a name," he mused remembering a strategy from his darker days, or the time in his life when he'd still been allowed to dream and sleep, when he was tortured every night by guilt and anger at the world. At first he'd felt overwhelmed by words around him, by voices and sounds because they would fuse together to the chaotic soundtrack of the night Magnus' mother had committed suicide. Hectic voice, police sirens, forms to signs, questions being asked, so many name tags flooding his senses, names heard, names written. It made him scream and burn books until the black ink on the pages stopped laughing at him.

Then he'd started to give names to everything. His own names. He controlled the ink. He made the decisions. It had helped. A bit. Not always and not completely, but still. His mind was free, right?

I name you Alexander, Magnus thought, the protector. He remembered the fear in those blue eyes, when he realized what an impact a simple touch could have. a soldier on the field refusing to draw his sword completely. You protect yourself because nobody is going to do it for you.

"I'll take you with me into the labyrinth," Alexander explained and surprise washed through Magnus.

"The Labyrinth? The labyrinth of dreams? How-?" He had been banned all those years ago when he'd turned against his own nightmares.

Alexander drew an index finger across the skin of his neck and from under the collar if his tightly buttoned shirt a simplified raven was dragged out. It as one of those moving tattoos that moved so freely across the other's skin the last time. And it didn't seem to be common practice as the raven on the pillow at the end of the bed had its head raised watching curiously with gleaming, dark eyes. The raven on Alexander's neck grew and a line of black ink separated from the protesting bird. It grew bigger, flitted across the whole side of the nightmare's neck and passed across the skin of his face.

A sound like breaking glass echoed through the room and with cautious movements Alexander detached the black line from his skin, the moonlight illuminated the new form that now finally became visible as the raven-tattoo escaped back under the collar of the black shirt.

A feather. Long and strong and gleaming with the shine of fresh ink.

Alexander held it delicately between index finger and thumb. He offered it to Magnus who instinctively took a step back. The raven's eyes were back on him, but his own wouldn't move away from Alexander's face. During the struggle with the feather, a part of the white mask had returned again, covering one of his blue eyes. The mask grew further as Magnus watched him, dripping down the nightmare's face. One half was now covered in the white tone of cold marble, the other alive and vibrating with urgency. The bird-shaped scar beneath the uncovered eye like the memory of a violent lover.

"This is your only chance to get back." Alexander's voice was shaking and Magnus understood the shear willpower he needed to keep the mask at bay. He had once again rebelled against his chains, but this time he didn't plan to be pulled away again.

Magnus' heartbeat was liquid fire in his chest when he reached out to take the feather. Or at least that's what he thought he would do. Everything happened much faster.

The moment he touched the feather with his fingertips, the ground of his bedroom turned into glass. It climbed the walls, the ceiling. Glass was followed by ice and when everything around him crumbled to dust, bursting into millions of shards, not one touched his skin, not once was he cut. When they were gone there was nothing around them. The ground was water or blue glass or something else, it was smooth like the ocean on the day the wind died.

The moon was gone and there was sunlight, but Magnus found he couldn't move his head to look up.

He was bound by the suddenly apologizing look on Alexander's face. His pale lips moved and formed the words 'I'm sorry'. The bird that had sat on the pillow in Magnus' bedroom was now on the ground right next to the nightmare's feet, his claws not disturbing the surface in the slightest.

Magnus wanted to ask what the other apologized for, but he found that his voice had been taken from his as well. Fear burned cold in his veins. What had he agreed to? What was happening? This was not the labyrinth he remembered, not the one he had tried to get back into by trying every strategy for falling asleep. Nothing had worked.

But then the smooth surface of the ground was broken, white marble grow from nothing. Stones appeared and moved around, pushed by invisible hands. The stones grew darker the longer they were exposed to the light. New ones appeared all over the place, walls around them were built and Magnus understood.

This was the labyrinth, born anew every night.

A tingling sensation crawled across his skin and his fear was back, but he couldn't do anything against it. His bones moved on their own accord, his skin was stretched or cramped together, heat encompassed him, his sight got dizzy, his senses somehow sharper. Panic pressed against his lungs. He shrunk, lost the grip on the feather without deciding to let go. The feather was still there, but so far up now. Alexander was tall. The walls of the labyrinth kept building themselves, they were the most imposing thing he'd ever seen, the most scary thing.

When Magnus screamed there was the sound of a frightened cat.

The nightmare kneeled down in fron of him and picked him up.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "But this is the only way I can take you inside with me without anybody noticing … but if it helps you, you are a very cute kitten."

The Labyrinth's walls closed above them in an elegant bow and in the shadow that now hung over them, Magnus could see amusement gleaming in those haunting blue eyes. He reached out and scratched his claws across Alexander's cheek.

The nightmare startled, but didn't let go of Magnus, just took a deep breath and looked at Magnus with pursed lips.

"Okay, I deserved that."

Magnus very much hoped that even cute kittens managed looks that could kill.