The needles... The two women... The doctors... The river... The mark of the devil on the back of his neck... He was in them and with them all, and each image haunted him out of the blue, all at once... Swimming before him, inside him, beneath him, above him, around him... So confusing... So misleading...And Satan held these memories on a silver platter, each as fresh as ever...

Something inside his brain sizzled and popped... There was a fiery bird in the sky...A woman, the same color as he, more distant...And another one, closer...Frailer, more angelic...

Then someone spoke to him, someone familiar...Someone female...

He knew this voice... He had heard it before...

Was it an angel? A demon? Or neither? ****************************************************************

"Kurt...Kurt... You're dreaming, just dreaming!"

His vision was not clear yet, for his eyes refused to open completely, but the figure looming above him could surely not be the Devil...And this place, it was no sanctuary for the damned, no broken golgotha. Could this be Heaven?

No way.

"Wake up, kid! You're havin' a nightmare!"

Was this an angel? Did they have such thick six o' clock shadows? And were they always men?

Kurt bolted upright suddenly, eyes wide, skin slick with sweat. For an instant, there was no sign of recognition in his piercing, yellow eyes.

"DEMONS! DEMONS!!!" he ejaculated hoarsely, his mouth hanging slack, frozen in a perpetual scream. His torso heaved with every ragged breath that sputtered from his lips. A few stray beads of cold sweat spooled from his pores in tiny rivulets, sending shivering fits that quaked through his entire body.

"Kurt--"

He grabbed whatever person, unholy or not, he could get a cleave to. His hands shook as he implored earnestly, the expression on his face a mask of dread.

"There are DEMONS...DEMONS ARE COMING FOR ME...HELP ME--"

Someone slapped his cheek soundly, bringing him back to earth. Suddenly, his vision was more lucid, if not still a bit hazy, and his grasp on reality firmer. It was just Logan, the bad-tempered one...And he was back in his bed, no, on the couch near the dining room, safe from harm. That was all that mattered now.

"KURT! There are NO demons coming after you! Read my lips, kid, you are h- a-l-l-u-c-i-n-a-t-i-n-g.

"N-no demons...?"

"NO demons."

"No d-demons..."

Kurt sat back, recoiling from the shock... It had just been a dream, but oh, what a dream! Birds, needles, demons... What next? And that voice... It was so familiar, so close, yet so very far away, too...

"Man, kid, you can sure holler... I was about to get myself an early morning snack when you just started screamin'! I'm surprised the whole place hasn't woken up by now."

The gruff man glowered.

"And if that was your idea of singin'," he cocked an eyebrow ," then you better find another line o' work, because frankly, you STINK."

He yawned widely and scratched himself.

"What the hell were you doin' sleeping on the couch, anyway? Professor X didn't give you a room for his health, you know..."

"Hey, circus boy? You there?"

He waved a big, hairy hand in front of Kurt's face, startling him.

"Jah! Jah... I'm here...Its just that," he grasped for the right words, "I was thinking..."

"'Bout what? Getting singing lessons?"

"Nein, nein," he seemed confused, still only half awake, "its just that my dream, my nightmare... It was so... confusing...So terrible... You understand?"

He stared at Logan, searching his face for any sign of recognition.

"Well, I'm no shrink, so you're askin' the wrong guy here..." "Shrink?" "You know, a--"

A commotion could be heard in the main hall. They both identified the Professor's familiar, fixed voice amidst the chatter, but another door shut, and suddenly, there was absolute quiet, as if the entire crowd had vanished, or some monstrous apparition had appeared and silenced them.

"What was that all about?" asked Logan. His nostrils dilated. "There's somebody here..."

He rounded the corner swiftly. Kurt felt that he had no other choice than to follow. After all, if he wanted to be a part of the Xavier Institute, to feel that he belonged, he would have to participate in whatever going- ons occurred. Shakily, he slid off the couch, body still stiff and sore from all the tossing and turning he had been doing, and stood up. Glancing down, he realized he hadn't even changed his clothes. They were the same ones he wore yesterday, stripey and simple. He had a few other pairs that had been given to him, but they were all folded up in his closet right now. He would change later.

***********************************************************************

The trio of travelers entered Xavier's School for the Gifted. Immediately, cries issued of," Scott n' Ororo are back!". One little boy, yellow haired and freckle faced, had seen them coming through the window. However, their guest was much too short to have been noticed. Treading behind her rescuers, they were nearly an entire foot taller than her.

"Where were you guys? Did ya bring us anything back?" he asked, static electricy gathering in his hair.

"Well, erm, not quite..." said Scott. He heard a familiar humming, the sound of some large machine operating.

"Oh, Professor!"

Charles Xavier, founder of the institute, greeted them with an outstretched, open palm.

"Good to see you all came back safely! And, ah," he tried to crane his neck around Ororo's back, " I trust you safely escorted our precious cargo.. Am I right?"

"Oh yes, sir. She's just fine. We had a long chat along the way. Came all the way from Baltimore to see us."

"Well, thank God for Cerebro, as I always say." He maneuvered himself forward with the effortless grace and poise of a man who had overcome a significant disability, kept his dignity, and still remained a kind, educated person with a deep understanding of human beings, and an uncanny sense of right and wrong. An eager crowd tail-gated him from behind, and Kurt, not wanting to disturb anyone, melded with the throng just as a shadow might have done.

A few moments passed. The Professor saw no sign of this girl he had been so willing to harbor from the dangers he had been informed of, and after careful consideration, concluded that she might have been a bit timid. He adressed her in a gentle, reassuring tone, letting the encouraging words roll off his tongue in very nearly a whisper.

"Don't be shy, my dear... We don't bite, I can assure you."

He executed a gesture with his hand that appeared as though he was parting the sea, signaling for Storm to move aside. A hush came over the masses.

"Even our Wolverine over there doesn't snap at the guests..." He glanced suggestively to the left, issuing a grunt from the burly man that hovered protectively over him, glaring, with his arms tightly crossed.

"Oh Logan, don't be offended... " He slapped armament's back, brimming with good humor, appreciative of the concern which would not have been shown some time ago.

"Ladies and gentlemen... It is my pleasure to introduce our newest family member,"

He smiled warmly, his arms raised.

"Miss Rachel Tyler!"