Disclaimer- "Rule number. You do not speak about Fight Club."

Author's Note- This one might be a little bit disturbing, but not bad enough not to be above a PG-13 rating.

Chapter Fourteen

Magnus stumbled, his eyes screwed shut and his hand clutching his head from a migraine. Slowly, he opened his blue eyes and saw fog and dark, gray smoke. The smoke went in his nostrils to his lungs, and he coughed violently. Something foul smelling filled the air, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat.

It smelt like burnt flesh.

He looked around him in horror, noticing the barbed wire and a few thin bodies scattered in various places. A small figure ran past him and Magnus gasped slightly, looking after the receding figure. He took a step towards the direction it went in but then stopped, slightly confused.

"Come on, mister, you do not want them to catch you, do you?" Something tugged at his hand and Magnus jumped, taken by surprised. Startled, he looked around for the source of the voice, and then spotted it right in front of him. A small, skinny boy with blue eyes and light brown hair just coming in from a scalp that had been shaven clean a while ago stood there.

It was he. It was a younger version of him! Dressed in a tattered striped uniform with the canary yellow Star of David sewn onto the left breast, he scowled at his adult self.

"Come on!" Young Erik hissed impatiently, tugging on his hand harder and leading him away from the area that they were in. Magnus's feet seemed to have a mind of their own, because much to Magnus's horror and dismay, they followed the younger version of himself.

The boy led him to a clearing, where the mud was slick and wet and freezing. Many skinny and shaven people walked by in a daze and almost mechanically. Some were limping, some were weeping, and Magnus winced as he saw one of them slit their own throat.

"We will be safe here," Erik assured him, patting the wet and cold ground next to him as he sat down. Magnus reluctantly sat next to him.

"What is this place?" Magnus whispered, eyeing everybody that passed.

Erik looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean what is this place?" he shook his head and rolled his eyes, "You must be one of the amnesiac ones. This is Bergen-Belsen, the death camp. I am surprised your head has not been shaven. Look! You have a full head of thick hair! You look familiar."

"May I take a look around?" Magnus asked Erik, slowly rising to a stand. Erik nodded, standing up too.

"I will go with you," he said, "If you truly are an amnesiac, you'll need protection. I can do that. I protect the girl over there." He pointed to a girl who was about six, and Magnus squinted at her to see her better. Slowly, he walked towards her and he gasped at what he saw.

The girl had light brown hair and looked small and delicate, but upon closer inspection he saw that three-quarters of her body was burnt severely and her face looked like it held an immortal pain. She looked up, revealing hazel eyes.

"Poppa?" the whisper came out choked. With joy or pain, he did not know.

He gasped quietly in horror and backed up a few steps, eyes wide and frightened. She stood up slowly, her arms raising and reaching to him for a hug.

"Poppa?" she choked again, "Please Poppa, I hurt."

He dropped to his knees, a gurgling noise escaping his throat. She stumbled towards him, seemingly unable to walk properly.

"Please Poppa, I hurt. It burns," she sobbed, still reaching out to him. She collapsed into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He shook violently, not daring to believe.

"Anya?" he whispered to her finally, slowly encircling his arms around her petite and delicate form, holding her tightly to him.

She let out a loud, long, blood-curdling scream of agony.

He jumped and released her on instinct, and she backed away quickly.

"Poppa! Poppa, help me!" she screamed. He reached out to her, to protect her. She reached her hand out to him but the screaming grew louder and more agonized as she threw her head back-

and was engulfed in flames.

Magnus screamed, futilely reaching out to save her.

She still howled, still miraculously alive.

And living through a painful torture.

Then, the screaming stopped, and she fell to the ground, the flames immediately extinguished.

Magnus crawled to her, small and short dry sobs escaping from his mouth every few seconds. He reached out to her.

She crumpled into a pile of dust just as his hand was inches from her corpse. A light breeze came, sending the remains of his daughter away in the wind.

He wailed, the tears rolling down his now soot-covered face. A hand rested on his shoulder.

"She had been calling for her poppa for about seventeen years. Some part of her always started on fire, but we put it out quick enough." Erik said sadly, "She was sweet. I liked her. Come on, I'll show you around."

Magnus, reluctantly climbed to his feet and followed, sobs racking through body.

Magnus watched the others around him, now recognizing some of the faces around him. Gambit walked by slowly, something branded in the middle of his forehead. He had the number '12' branded on the back of his neck. His hair had been shaven also, and the only reason Magnus recognized him was because of his unique eyes; red irises over black sclera.

They stopped close to another figure and Magnus gasped at what he saw. Pietro was there, his white hair growing back, his blue eyes empty. A large 'M' had been burned on to his forehead, some blood dripping from it and down the length of his crooked nose (he wondered slightly for a moment why it was crooked, because Pietro's nose was straight). He was holding a small, dirty, and torn burlap sack in his hand, a few lumps in it. In his right hand was a rotting potato, already looking like it was soft and mushy.

A figure came barreling into Pietro, knocking him into the mud. They rolled around a bit, fighting over the sack. Gasps and grunts and small, frustrated screams came from them both, and when Magnus caught a glimpse of the attacker's face, he recognized whom it was. Pyro.

Pietro lay on top of the sack, trying to pry Pyro's fingers off from his neck. He gasped and dug his nails into the Australian's flesh. Pyro let out a howl of agony and released Pietro's throat, examining the bleeding cuts where the nails had dug in. Pietro took the distraction of the other man as an opportunity and swiped at his face. Pyro growled and dove his hands again for the speedster's throat, only to have Pietro grab on to his wrists. Pyro forced his hands to lower, and he began to claw and Pietro's face, attempting to injure the man to distraction. Pietro let out a feral growl, releasing Pyro's left hand and with his right he searched for something to aid him. Pyro's fingers immediately locked around Pietro's throat once again. Blood filled both of their mouths, now staining their teeth red. Small, bleeding cuts covered their faces. Pietro grabbed something, and quickly brought it up and into Pyro's throat.

Magnus's eyes widened in horror as he watched his son murder one of his friends. Pietro pushed the jagged and pointed rock that he had in his hand further into Pyro's throat. John gurgled for a moment, blue eyes widened in shock, and then, the blonde fell forward, his weight landing on top Pietro's body.

Pietro Maximoff had killed St. John Allerdyce.

Breathing hard, Pietro rolled out from under John, grabbing the sack of what were presumably potatoes in his hand, and he ran. Magnus followed him, and Erik did too.

Pietro stopped at a figure that was huddled in a dark, dank corner, with a thin blanket filled with holes. Pietro sat down next to the figure, took one end of the blanket, and wrapped it around his thin and trembling shoulders. Placing the sack between them, he opened it, and the both of them took out a rotten potato and split it between themselves. Magnus noticed that the huddled figure received the bigger half.

The huddled figure was Wanda.

"He usually gets the food for the both of them," Erik whispered quietly from beside Magnus, "If he has to kill to feed her, he will. But he'll share with the little kids sometimes too, giving them his share. But he never, ever, ever lets anyone eat her food. He kills them."

Wanda turned to her brother, wiping the trail of blood off of his chin with her thumb. He had finished his half (it had been more of a quarter) of his potato and had fallen asleep.

Magnus stared as Wanda wrapped her arms around him, bringing his shivering form closer to her shivering form, so that their body heat combined might be able to warm them up for the night. He was caked in mud, and his lips were tinted blue.

"Come," whispered Erik, tugging on his hand. "You have to get the mark, if you don't they kill you."

Magnus looked at his younger self with a befuddled expression on his face. Erik stopped suddenly, grabbed his left arm and forced the sleeve up.

"You already have a mark! You are a Jew! Or are you a Gypsy? Or perhaps a Jehovah Witness?" he whispered in surprise, and then gasp, "You have the same numbers as me! How is that?"

"I am a Jew," Magnus whispered, confused when Erik started pulling him again. "I already have a mark, where are we going?"

"You have not the mark they want. You are a mutant. You need the mutant mark." Erik said, bringing him to a line of mutants, under the guard of S.S. officers. Trask was off to the side, observing with satisfaction. Magnus's brow furrowed. Trask wasn't alive during the Holocaust, was he? But then, neither was Pietro or Wanda, or Anya for that matter. Something was not right.

The next mutant in line stepped up, beaten in the back with a club to hurry him up. Magnus recognized him as Bobby Drake, or Iceman.

He already had the 'M' burned into his forehead, but they took the brand again, making it white-hot, and then pressed it into the already scarred tissue of the young man's flesh. He screamed, trying to pull away, but the one with the brand pushed harder, and then finally, and slowly, he pulled it away, tearing a bit of the flesh with it. The smell of the burnt skin was putrid and a few promptly threw up. Even a few of the officers were green in the face. Magnus swallowed what had risen in his throat.

'Why am I standing here?' he suddenly thought, looking around swiftly. Something definitely was not right.

It is a dream! He realized immediately. He had been stupid not to see it before!

"It's a dream!" He said out loud now. Erik looked up at him in wonder.

"What sir?" he asked, a little frightened.

"This is a dream!" he said again, now walking away from everybody. Some followed. Magnus turned around, pushing them back with his magnetic powers.

"Leave me be!" he bellowed, "Can't you see you have caused me enough agony already?! Leave me be!"

"Sir!" Erik cried, grabbing hold of Magnus's arm, tears in his eyes. "Please sir, they'll kill you!"

"Run, Erik," Magnus told him, shaking his arm out of the boy's grip.

"What? Sir, how do you know my name?" Erik asked, involuntarily taking a small step back.

Magnus knelt in front of him, and cupped the boy's face in his hands. "I am you. The little girl was my deceased daughter. The two huddled mutants were my young twin son and daughter. I am you. You are but a figment of my dream. Run."

Erik turned and ran. He bumped right into Trask. Erik melted at his feet, screaming in agony.

Trask turned to him. Black eyes were glinting with malicious glee, his mouth twisted into a demented smirk. He started walking towards Magnus.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"ARRRGGHHH!" Magnus yelled as he flung whomever it was that was shaking his shoulder into the wall with his powers.

It was Mastermind.

"I am sorry, my Lord Magneto, but your dreams were disturbing mine." Jason apologized.

"Did you see?" Magneto asked. Jason nodded slightly.

"Only close to the end, sir." He said.

"I obviously have to inform Xavier then," Magnus sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "I do not get dreams like that. Not in years."

"Are you going back to sleep, sir?" Jason asked.

"It does not concern you with what I do or do not do, Mastermind," Magnus said coldly. "But if you did not have some form of telepathy, I probably would have been dead."

Jason took that as thanks and nodded his head to Magneto.

"Then I will sleep again, sir, on your leave." He said, his head bowed. Magneto nodded. Jason silently left.

*~*~*~*~*~*

My proudest chapter for this story to date. In my opinion, of course. I don't have time to reply to all, but thanks to all who reviewed! Won't post next chapter until I get 90 reviews!

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