Disclaimer: When I assemble my evil minions and take over Canada, I'll own Degrassi. Muwhahahaha! Until then, I don't have jack squat.

Author's Notes: The second chapter. Yay!

Marco: Oh gee, I'm so excited.

Spinner: One more chapter and I'm closer to getting kisses! -jumps around the a/n happily-

Marco: -watches Spinner jump- It's making me dizzy…

Spinner: Whee!

Um…read, enjoy, review. -smiles-

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Chapter Two: In my Dreams

I stared up at the woman, blinking once or twice before I began moving away. My breathing began to increase as my eyes shifted from side to side quickly, looking for any way of escape. This woman is obviously mentally disturbed. I mean, that's the only thing that it could be, right? That hell cat couldn't have really talked to me…could it?

"Do not be afraid, deary," she says to me kindly, that soft smile ever present on her features. At first it was endearing, kind of sweet; now it's only adding to that look of craziness about her. God, what was I thinking, talking to a woman in a cape?!

I take in a few breaths, my mind racing at a hundred miles. What can I possibly say to her? I've never dealt with an elderly deranged lunatic before; well, an elderly deranged lunatic who I wasn't related to. Well, Uncle Moirés isn't really deranged, he's just sort of…special. I shake my head. This is no time to be thinking about my special relatives!

She's still looking at me with those sparkling kind eyes, smiling as she walks closer. Okay Marco, don't panic. You can not panic. You will be calm in the face of danger. Oh no, she's getting the cat! She's going to let the hell beast have me! I'm going to die!

Shut up, Marco, says that voice again. Hearing it again, I realize that it too has a certain accent. Greek maybe, or maybe even Italian?

"What?" I question, not being able to keep the slightly nervous squeak out of my voice. Suddenly my eyes widen a bit. "How did you know my name?"

"I didn't," the woman tells me. "She did," she says, motioning to the cat with her chin. I look down at the cat, who has not moved from her position at the curb of the road. She hisses at me again, and I swear I can see a disapproving glare flashing across her eyes.

I blink at the woman incredulously. Does she actually expect me to believe that a cat is talking to me? She really is insane. I open my mouth, prepared to inform her that there is no possible way that a cat could communicate with a human. Quickly my mouth shuts. I can't say that. If she is a nutcase, then what will she do if I basically come out and tell her that she is? Besides, I don't even want to think aboutwhat the devil kitty will do to me if I voice my opinions.

"You don't believe me, do you deary?" she asks softly.

"Um…sure I do," I tell her, forcing myself to sound and appear calm. I doubt it's helping though. I bet hell beasts can smell fear.

She shakes her head a bit. "You don't have to lie, deary. I can sense it. You do not believe me…yet." I drag my gaze away from the cat up to meet her silvery eyes again. "But you soon will. Soon, you will learn all about your power, and you will be able to accept it; just as I know you have accepted many other things in your life."

"Wait just, just back up for a second," I say, shaking my head, causing a few loose pieces of hair to fall in front of my eyes. I ignore them and continue speaking. "Did you just say…power?"

Are you deaf or something kid?

That voice again! I jump a little and look down at the cat, who is now staring at me…in amusement? But how can a cat…? Could she really…? This isn't happening!

"Shh," the woman says, glaring down at the cat. "I'm sorry, she doesn't have very good manners." The kitten hisses at her but she ignores it. "And yes, I did say power. You could not be a witch without any."

Ah, well, that makes sense.

Wait…a WHAT?!

"W-witch?" I stutter. What in the hell is this lady talking about?

Something passes over her face and she blinks, almost appearing to be startled by my question. Her mouth forms into a small 'o' and she steps back an inch or so. "You didn't know?"

"Listen…I'm sorry. I have no idea what your talking about," I inform her quietly, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. Maybe if I try to look pitiful enough she'll leave me alone and not freak out on me or something.

She shakes her head softly and lets out a sigh, a small smile causing her lips to twitch upwards. She turns towards the cat. Taking a few steps she reaches her and kneels down on her heels. She reaches out with one pale, wrinkled hand to pat her on the head.

"It looks like we've got our work cut out for us, on this one, eh?" she questions the cat, who only makes some sort of purring sound in response. Gulping, I decide to take this chance. Gripping my hands around my backpack I take off, running at top speed until I reach my house.

"Wait! Marco! Don't run!" I hear her yelling but refuse to turn back. Instead I keep running as fast as my legs can carry me. I continue to push myself, even when there is a stinging pain in my side. I wince, scrunching my face in pain as the throbbing increases. These short little legs were not made for running.

Finally my house comes into view. I half jog/half stumble to my front door, sagging against the frame as I try to catch my breath. I shove one of my hands into my pockets and pull out my key, fumbling around for at least a minute before I finally get the door unlocked. I nearly collapse at the doorstep, but managed to keep myself standing by gripping the chair railing around the walls.

I begin moving slowly towards the steps, still taking deep and raged intakes of breath. I've never been much of a runner, really; not for long distances anyway. Add the fact that I'm already pretty exhausted and well…it's not pretty.

I manage to make it to the staircase without tripping over anything -a miracle, as far as I'm concerned. My hands grasp the cherry wood stair rail and I begin to pull myself up the steps groggily. About one-third of the way up I hear my mama's worried voice echoing the staircase. Tilting my head I look down to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me with a concerned face.

"Marco baby, are you all right?" she asks me, her dark eyes scanning my figure for anything that might prove to harmful.

I shake my head, offering a tired smile. "Yeah ma, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You don't look fine. Are you running a fever? How are you feeling? Maybe your sick. I could call the hospital and we could get Dr. Cooper over hear in thirty minutes…"

"Ma!" I say loudly, cutting her off before she forgets to breath and starts turning blue; yeah, that has actually happened before. "I'm not sick."

"Well you look sick. Is it the drugs, Marco? I thought you promised me you would never do drugs. It's that Spinner kid isn't it? He's been giving you dope hasn't he! Don't think I don't know about the dope young man, because I do! And I will have no son of mine running out the streets selling drugs!"

I roll my eyes. "Ma, it's not drugs. I swear it."

She looks at me suspiciously, crossing her arms over her chest. "You better be telling me the truth, mister. I'm going to check your room later, and if I find anything suspicious I'm taking you to Dr. Cooper anyway to get you tested for drugs."

With a heavy sigh I turn away from her and continue my long trek up the stairs. I've been letting her watch to much MTV or something. Honestly, it doesn't matter what's wrong with me, she'll always ask if it's the dope or the crack or the weed. I don't know why, but she's convinced Spinner is going to get me hooked on drugs or something. I've told her a million times that Spinner would never do drugs, but she doesn't seem to believe me. Pap isn't much help either. He's always saying that he doesn't like it when he comes over to the house; that 'something isn't right about that boy'. Parents.

I somehow make it to my room. I push the door open and stumble in, letting my book bag slide off onto the floor before I collapse on top of my head. I sigh in bliss as soon as my body hit's the comforter, feeling my form almost sink into the mattress. Sleep. Rapture.

Using my feet I manage to kick my shoes and socks off. I lift the covers and climb underneath them, tucking my knees into my chest as I wrap my arms around a pillow, snuggling into the warmth. My eyes begin to drift closed, but I can't help but think about that strange old woman. How did she know my name? What did she mean about power and witches? Could I have really…I mean I couldn't…right? I can't really be a witch; I didn't really talk to a cat. Heck, that woman was probably just some escaped mental patient looking to sacrifice me to some cult or something. I frown, realizing that thought doesn't make me feel much better about the whole ordeal. I can't help but wonder though, even as I'm seconds away from practically passing out from pure exhaustion, how did she know my name?

- Dream -I am standing in the middle of a desert. I think it's a desert, anyway. Dark red sand seems to stretch out around me for miles. Silver moonlight pours around me, giving me enough light to see a good twelve feet in front of me. Unconsciously I clench my toes into the sand -apparently I don't have shoes, or socks- and sigh as I feel the warmth spreading over me, soothing my aching feet.

There's a voice behind me and a deep and mocking laughter that follows. I can hardly make out the words. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, focusing all of my energy on the sounds. A cool breeze whips around me, and I can feel some sand blowing against my jeans.

"Who's there?" I call out, turning around in a circle slowly, surveying the area nearest me. "Who is it?"

I'm frustrated, because all there is the laughter again. I scowl to myself, one fist clenching at my side. "C-come on out," I say, and I curse myself for sounding afraid.

"Are you scared?"

The voice is close now; too close, right beside my ear. I try to jump but a strong arm slips around my waist, holding me tightly. I gulp as I feel something being dragged across my chest. My naked chest. Oh God.

"Don't..." I whimper as pressure is applied. I shiver, suddenly feeling very cold, and very alone, and very, very afraid. I dare to glance down and see a pale hand gripping a dagger. The dagger is about nine inches long, and maybe three and a half or four inches wide. The handle has been sculpted into a Dragons head, out of silver. It's a beautiful weapon, actually, if it weren't being pressed against me right now. He -it has to be a he, because the arm around me is so strong, and that voice I heard was distinctly male- chuckles in my ear again, causing goose bumps to rise on my neck.

"You don't have to be afraid," he whispers soothingly, and his lips are much to close to my skin for my liking.

"That's hard to believe, with you holding that knife and all," I tell him and he laughs again. I'm so glad I can amuse him. I try to pull away but I only end up pushing myself against the dagger. I whimper again, feeling warm liquid trickling down my chest. His hand slides down, his fingers gently brushing the blood away, and I find myself shivering again, letting out another whimper at his touch.

"I don't have to hurt you, Marco," he whispers and I gasp slightly, realizing that this is the first time he's ever said my name.

"How did you…how could you possibly know…?"

He laughs again, and this time I swear I do feel warm, soft lips brushing against the skin of my neck. "Of course I know, Marco. I've always known."

His grip tightens and the dagger presses down against my skin even more. "After all," he whispers harshly into my ear, causing me to let out another soft moan of pain. "You belong to me."

- End Dream -

I shoot up in bed, my breathing heavy. I can feel sweat beading on my forehead. I take in a few breaths, trying as hard as I can to calm myself, but I can't seem to. I can feel a shiver running down my spine, the goose bumps still on my neck on the exact place that His lips touched my skin. I run a hand through my raven locks, trying to remind myself that what just happened was just a dream; only a dream; only the reason I can't sleep at night.

That one was…different than the others. He's never said my name before. He's never told me that I belong to Him before. I've seen the dagger a million times in my life; in those dreams, or nightmares. I guess I couldn't really call them all nightmares. I wouldn't call the one I had tonight a nightmare.

Believe me, I'm disgusted with myself for even thinking such things. But the way it felt to have that arm around me, lips brushing against my skin, having those words whispered to me; it felt nice. I won't deny that. Of course, the nice feeling is taken down a bit by the fact that He did have that nice pressed against me, and that I think he's trying to kill me.

I sigh softly and begin pushing the sheets off of me. After a dream I can never get back to sleep; after a dream I never want to get back to sleep. Especially tonight. This dream was so…vivid. It felt so incredibly real. Maybe it's just because I miss Dylan, or just miss having a boyfriend, or something. Why else would I think of Him doing and saying such things to me? I must have one twisted mind.

I sit up and immediately fall back, a slight stinging in my mid section causing me to stop. Frowning I grasp the edge of my shirt, pulling it up. I gasp as what I see. There is a small rivulet of crimson liquid moving down my tan skin. I'm imagining it. I…I must be. Shakily I move my other hand to my stomach. With a deep breath I brush my fingers over the liquid, biting back a whimper as I bring my finger to my face. I sniff, my face shifting into a look of disgust at the smell. It's only one thing. Blood.

How could it be? That-that was a dream! Wasn't it? I stand up and move shakily to the small bathroom that connects with my room. I flip the light on and move to stand in front of the mirror. I slip the shirt off over my head, wrinkling my nose when I catch the blood stain on it, and throw it on top of the hamper. I look at my reflection in the mirror. There is a small line running from the bottom of my rib cage to my mid abdomen, about four and a half inches long. I wet a wash cloth and bring it to my stomach, dabbing at the blood. I can feel bile rising in my throat -I really don't like the sight of my own blood- but I push it back down. When I'm through cleaning it I open the medicine cabinet and pull out a first aid kit. I grab one of those big patch Band Aids and place it over the wound, smoothing the edges down gently with my fingertips. Looking back in the mirror I make sure that I am pleased with my nursing skills before I head back into the bedroom, not bothering to turn the light off.

What just happened? That was a dream. It had to be. I mean if it wasn't, where's the sand, huh? Where's the freaking desert?! There most certainly aren't any in Canada -not that I know of, but I don't think they'd make one without telling everyone. And why would we want a desert anyway?- and there most certainly aren't any in my room. I wiggle my toes, nodding faintly when I feel no sand. It couldn't have been real. So how did I get…?

"I must be going crazy," I mutter to myself, moving to the wall to flip on the light switch. I know I'm not going back to sleep, so I might as well turn on all the lights and watch some TV. I think South Park might be on. Usually I can't stand shows like that, but it really is funny. As long as I know to close my eyes whenever they kill Kenny, I'm usually all right.

I plop down on the end of the bed, my mind still racing as I reach for the remote. This is turning out to be one heck of a day. I grab the remote and flip the TV on, surfing through the channels until I come to Comedy Central. All right, Towlie! I smile softly and lean back, my head resting against the pillows. Now this is something I know how to deal with.

What is this shit? And what the hell is wrong with that towel?

My eyes widen. Breathing shakily I turn to see the black cat -the same one from earlier, I think- sitting right beside me on my bed, staring at the television with her head cocked to the side.

"Eep!" I yelp in surprise and fall off the bed. I curl my hands around the bed and pull myself up onto my knees, staring wide eyed at the kitten. She makes some sort of purring noise and I glare at her. "If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were laughing at me…" I mutter softly.

I am. You witches are so clumsy; especially the male ones. Utterly hopeless.

"I'm not hopeless," I retort indignantly. "And at least I have thumbs! And…and oh my God…I'm talking to a cat." I begin to back away from my bed as she turns to me. "How did you get in here?"

Uh, through the door, dumbass.

I blink a few times. "Through the door? How could you…? You're a cat!"

No shit Sherlock. And people say witches are slow.

I scowl at her. "One more rude remark and I'm calling the animal control."

And tell them what? Oh hello officer, yes a kitten broke into my home, and now she's terrorizing me.

I take in a shaky breath, trying to figure out what to do. I realize that -as sad as this is- the hell cat is right; I can't call animal control. What the could I say?

Would you stop calling me a hell cat? It's annoying.

"I never called you a hell cat," I inform her, frowning.

Well you thought it.

"So? That's different, and I…wait. How did you know I was thinking it?" I jump back a little. "You can read minds, can't you?"

Ding ding ding, we have a winner! How did you think I had been communicating with you all this time? Through the transmitter the aliens put in your brain?

"No," I hiss in annoyance. "That's not funny, you know. There's no such things as aliens, so there isn't any transmitter in my brain."

Right. That's just what they want you to think.

A look of confusion passes over my face and I scrunch my brow. What's going on around here? First these dreams start getting worse, then I meet that creepy old woman, then that dream I had tonight, and now the hell cat-

I told you to stop calling me that!

-I mean kitten is sitting on my bed, reading my mind. How can any of this be possible?

"This can't be happening," I murmur, mostly to myself as I begin to pace back and forth. "Your not real. Your just a figment of my exhausted, warped imagination."

If I was just a figment, then could I do…this?

I glance down at her, barely registering what is happening in my mind before she lunges at me. I yelp and move back, hitting the wall and sliding to the floor, the cat sitting on top of me. There is something that kind of looks like a grin on her features as she raises her paw.

There now, what figment do you know could do that, huh Rom Baro? (1)

I glare at her. "Plenty, actually." She gives me a suspicious look. And yes, I know it's a cat, but I can tell that her look is suspicious. "All right, well only one. But He can certainly do a lot more then just push me into a wall."

She tilts her head to the side. Like what? she asks me.

I mentally debate it for a while, then figure hey, what could it hurt? I push her down into my lap gently and motion to the bandage on my chest. I wrap my index and thumb around the edge, pulling it down to reveal a bit of the small wound. She hisses slightly through her teeth.

Who did that to you?

I blink at the possessive sound in her voice and smooth the bandage back. "Just some guy that has been appearing in my dreams."

How long has this man been in your dreams?

"Years now. But they've been getting worse over the past few months." I chuckle softly to myself, shaking my head. "But why am I telling you this? Your just a cat…"

I am not just a cat, Rom Baro. I'm your familiar, and you better give me something more about this man, or else I'll give you something worse then a wimpy little scar like that.

I stiffen in surprise slightly. "What do you mean, you're my familiar?"

I can see her roll her eyes. Out of that whole threat and the only part you focus on is the part where I say I'm you familiar?!

"Well, what is it?"

There is another eye roll, and I could swear that she sighs heavily. She squirms around, getting slightly more comfortable in my lap. All right Rom Baro, I guess I should start from the beginning, since your obviously clueless. First of all, Marco, you, are a Chovexani. (2)

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(1) Rom Baro means Big Man, or like a Chief of a gypsy tribe. In Marco's case, our kitty is using it in a sarcastic way.

(2) Chovexani means witch in the gypsy language. I'm not just making this up people. I've done my research on the gypsies. (yes, this done mean kitty is a gypsy, but you'll find out all about that in the next chapter)

Whoo, a cliffy!

Marco: Didn't we have one of those during the last chapters?

Yes we did, and expect more to come.

Spinner: I didn't even get to be in this chapter. -sulks-

Ah, but you were mentioned! Please review. It is greatly appreciated and helps me write. BYE!