A/N: The parts in italics are a dream.
Two hours passed; even Mary had managed to fall asleep, but not I. I was too preoccupied with the day's events. I tossed and turned, trying to dodge my thoughts, while making sure I didn't wake my sleeping wife, even if I could see that she wasn't sleeping well anyway. I rolled over on my right side and stared at her sleeping form, remembering what she had said earlier to me. 'He's dead William…'
I shook my head and settled back down. 'She's right, you know. Now stop your tomfoolery.'
Finally, I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the dark chasms of sleep.
I was walking down the hall upstairs, when suddenly I turned into the master bedchamber; no one else was in the room.I walked over to the full- length mirror in the upper right corner of the room and stood before it. As I continued to stare into the mirror, my image disappeared. My eyes widened in horror as I stared at not myself, but the face of the man I had seen in Fredericton.
"No!"
The man's lips curled into an evil sneer, unfortunately not unlike the one I had worn so many times during raids and battles in the Insurrection of the American colonies.
"Yes William, you know this face, though it's been more than twenty years.."
"You're dead!"
"That is what you think; but as long as you're alive, it will never be true; you are of my blood, and thus, I live through you.."
"No you do not! Be gone from here!" I yelled, punching the mirror.
The image of my father in the mirror looked down at my hand.
"Too late, William Garrick Alastor Camden Tavington."
My father's image disappeared from the mirror, replaced by my own image; but something was horribly wrong. My image began to age quickly.
"No…"
I pulled a lock of my hair in font of my face. To my horror, it was no longer dark chocolate brown, but silver. I looked down at my hands. They were aged; then I looked back in the mirror and cried out in shock and terror, for it was no longer myself I laid eyes on. I had become the man I hated. I had become my father…
