A/N: Hi! This is the new chapter (well DUH, way to state the obvious). Sorry about taking so long. At the very end, there will be another little blurb from Unknown – a very short blurb, but a blurb nonetheless. And it will introduce some people who are moderately important. And forgive me if Beast Boy doesn't really sound like a boy. I'm female, goddamnit!

To ShadeyMike: I'm glad you like it. You're also my first reviewer! Yay-ness! (does the you're-my-first-reviewer-dance and sings the you're-my-first-reviewer song) I hope you like this chapter!

To vinnie the geek: Sorry about the switching, it wasn't intended. 2 Booyahs, that's a lot! Thank-you! And you think it's her? Yeah, probably is. Does it really sound like her? I mean, I didn't think it sounded like any of the titans, really. Maybe you looked at it differently then I did. And I won't kick your ass unless you flame me.

To ubermann: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. That's all you need to know.

My Personal Hell

Chapter One: Our Dysfunctional Family

"I'll tell you how strange I am."
- Montgomery, 'Fame'.

Beast Boy's POV

When I woke up, there was a throbbing ache in the back of my skull. There was something cool and smooth wrapped around my wrists and ankles. The metal that wrapped around them way some sort of alloy – yes, I known what that means, sheesh – that had a blackish color to it. It was refreshingly cool on my uncovered ankles, or would have been if I was completely conscious to enjoy it. My mind was still fucked up from the sedative Slade had used. Why Slade had used a sedative, I'm not sure. Maybe he didn't trust me with his hideout's location. Well, he has a right to. I wouldn't trust me with that either.

After that thought, I realized that I was only wearing boxers.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. But I didn't have time to dwell on that, because I could hear footsteps. Loud, clunking footsteps. Most likely Slade. I readied myself. Or rather, I tried to and ended up cutting off the circulation in my wrists.

Slade stepped into the light. He was holding something under his arms. He smiled at me when he noticed my discomfort. Well, at least I think he's smiling. I'm beginning to hate that mask.

Slade took a step forward, but was still several feet away from me. Suddenly, a strong odor entered my nose. It was nothing like anything I had ever smelt before. It was a mixture of the strongest odors anyone could come up with, yet it didn't smell at all. It reminded me of onions and oranges with a hint of ginger, and some weird sort of perfume thrown in there. I looked back at Slade and saw the tenseness in his muscles, and realized what that smell was: fear.

Fear. Wow. I had Slade frightened. Slade, who had died in a fucking volcano, was afraid of me. This was just way too weird for my taste. I would have turned tail and ran then and there – except for one tiny little thing. In case you've forgotten, BOLTED TO A FUCKING WALL!

Slade noticed my unease. Well, it took him long enough. I mean, what kind of person is comfortable when strapped to a cold, hard wall that has small jagged bit that poke into your back! I'd really love to know. You find someone like that, tell me so that I can ask them how they do it.

Back to then. Slade was staring at me. It was a bit unnerving at first. Then I remembered my lack of clothing, and realized why he was staring. Then it became really unnerving. I couldn't really tell, but I could have sworn he was checking me over … My God! Is Slade gay! I thought, panicked. Yep, that was me back then. My mind was constantly in the gutter. Go me (please take note of the very sarcastic drawl).

That was when my perverted mind realized that Slade was looking at my face. I almost sighed in relief. Keyword: almost. Years of telling bad jokes to Raven helps one develop a sense of when it's in ones best interest to keep ones mouth shut. This was one of those times when I knew that would be the right thing to do.

Slade finally addressed me. "I see you're awake," he said, taking a step forward.

"No shit, Sherlock," I muttered under my breath. Unfortunately (for me), Slade heard.

"So," he asked casually, but I could tell there was something being repressed, anger possibly? "You think you're funny. You think you have a right to be happy all the time. Did you not realize that when you signed on as my apprentice, you were metaphorically and literally putting your life into my hands to do with it what I will? That I could kill you, that I would kill you, perhaps even for the smallest thing? Your life is mine to do with it what I will. You had better get used to it." Slade threw the box he had been carrying at my feet.

"What's that?" I asked, not ready to trust him. For all I knew, there could be anything in that box, from a hand grenade to a rocket launcher to one of those funny pie things you always see in cartoons. I wasn't willing to take any chances.

"Your uniform," Slade answered simply, pulling a remote from his belt. Upon it were several shiny (I was only fourteen, damnit!), silver buttons. He pressed one of them and I fell to the floor, the bindings having finally released me. I opened the box. Inside was a uniform, as Slade said. I pulled out the first piece. It was a plain, long-sleeved shirt that was a very dark shade of purple with a black 'S' in the center. I pulled the shirt on over my head, not wanting to expose my chest – as muscled as it was – to my new master. Wow, me referring to Slade as 'master'. It must be a sign of the Apocalypse. I am never going to get used to that.

The next thing I pulled out was the pants. They were plain, black spandex leggings that no guy deserves to be caught dead in. I put them on anyway. Would you rather walk around in your boxers? Because if so, I'd like to know what your taking. Seriously. Anyway, there were also the boots, which were black, as well. The bottoms were metal, the same alloy that Slade had used to bind me to the wall. I also found black socks and black gloves that looked just like my old ones. What is it with these villains and black? I swear.

Once I was fully clothed, I stood up. Slade stood across from me. He observed me from all the way over there by the computer, and it was unnerving. He walked over after a few seconds. Once he was a mere two feet from me, he held out something. It was a mask. It had a dark purple lining, but the inside was white like Robin's. The corners were turned up, reminding me of those evil villain smiles you read about in fantasy novels.

I looked up at him. "What's this for?" I asked innocently.

I think he's glaring at me. That's why I smirked. I didn't care how much trouble it got my in, I just wanted him to know he didn't control me.

"If you don't know," Slade said, his glare not lessening, "it's because from now on you are a criminal. And I think that you wouldn't want anyone to know that, would you?" He saw the horror make its way onto my face and I knew he was smirking at me in that annoying cocky manner. I just knew. And that made me really pissed. My fists clenched by my side. A familiar pain began to form in my upper back. I took several deep breaths, really not wanting to go through that again. I took the mask in my hands and slowly placed it on my face. It didn't make my vision any different. It just felt weird, sitting there on my face.

"Apprentice," Slade addressed me, "you may have the rest of the day off. We start tomorrow. Your room is the one with the black door down the hallway on the left. It will be the only one with a key under the front mat which you will keep in your possession at all times. You are now excused. I have business I need to attend to."

I walked down the hall in the direction Slade had told me. The rooms all had strangely colored doors, but none of them were black. The dust that coated the hallway's floors muffled the clunking footsteps that came from my boots. There were no windows in the hall, so I had no way of knowing whether I was underground, near a mountain, on a mountain, or any other place that a villain might keep his hideout.

After a lot of walking, I reached the black door. I can describe it in one word: black. Oh, were you expecting a different adjective? Really, that's the only way I could describe this door. It was very black. So was the doormat. So was the key ring. So was the key.

After unlocking the door (which surprisingly worked the first time), I opened it to find … an all black room. Just my luck. Wait, what luck?

There was a single-person bed in the far right corner with a night-table next to it that sported a single drawer and a lamp. The walls were black; the doors were black with silver doorknobs. Surprisingly, there was a window that showed a balcony and a view of an unpopulated lake. The door next to it led to the balcony. There was a door off the left side of the room that presumably led to the bathroom.

I made my way to the bathroom. It had a single shower stall, a closet, a toilet (duh), a sink, and a mirror. There were some fluffy black towels on the toilet seat, and a bathrobe on a hook next to the door.

I stared at the fluffy black towels. I hadn't been expecting anything fluffy to be owned by Slade. Wow, this was wrong in so many ways.

I looked in the mirror. There was dirt and blood allover my face, from what I didn't know. I decided to take a quick shower; god knows when I last had one. I quickly removed my uniform, which is a shame because I had just put it on. Once I was in my boxers – again – I turned on the water and set the temperature to hot. I then stripped the rest of the way and hoped – not literally – in. the water felt cool against my skin. It was relaxing after all this. I mean the strange turn of events.

Why do you care about me being in the shower anyway? What, do you think I masturbate or something? No thank you, sir or madam. I was fourteen, for Christ's sake. Sheesh, you'd think you were a perverted stalker if you want to know whether I do that. And just to clarify things, no, I am not a eunuch. God, you're worse then I was.

Once my hair was shampooed, conditioned, and rinsed, and my body washed all over so that no trace of dirt or blood was left, I stepped out of the shower, one of the fluffy, black towels around my waist. I walked back out into the main part of my room. Then, just because, I locked my door. I dried myself off and put my uniform back on. Then I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. I needed some sleep.


My footsteps echoed over the deserted woodlands for miles around. There trees were at least a hundred times taller then any trees I'd ever seen. They stood tall and straight, soldiers waiting for the command to attack. Their leafy tops blew in the wind. The sunlight that filtered through barely gave me enough light to walk by.

There was a sound behind me. Kind of like rushing water. But it crackled too. Suddenly, a giant inferno flew by on both sides. It wasn't dramatic. It was spectacular. It wasn't even that giant. It just past me and was gone. Leaving only broken trees and damaged plants in its wake.

The destruction was almost like blood. There were burnt stumps for miles around, looking like thrown corpses. Their tops were burnt a solid black while their roots were ripped up. There were also the small plants next to the large trees. They were limp and crumpled, pretty much dead. I knelt down next to one. I propped the limp thing up. It was a white lily. Raven once told me that lilies, especially white ones, foretell death. Its leaves were almost all burnt off and its stem was crumpled underneath it. It must've once been a beautiful flower, but it wasn't any longer. It had been destroyed.

Like my old life with the Titans.

There was nothing else living in the area except for me. At least, that's what I thought. That was when I noticed the hooded someone.It kneeled next to a collapsed flower. "Beast Boy," it addressed me in a familiar hollow voice, "how could you do this?"

"How could I do what?" I asked, staring at the person with wide eyes.

"You did this," it said, gesturing at the burnt plains. "You destroyed everything. You hurt our friends so much. How could you do it?" it stood there, unmoving, waiting for my reply.

I couldn't respond. I didn't know what to say. My mouth moved, but nothing came out. I suppose I looked like a fish out of water. When I finally found my voice, it came out as a squeak. "What d'you mean?"

It still didn't stand. It just kneeled in front of the flower, straightening its stem with delicate fingers. Fingers that were perfectly cream. They were long, slender and calloused, showing that their owner had undergone long hours of training to receive the wiry muscle that covered their digits.

Finally, they stood. The long black cloak they wore billowed around their feet with the breeze. They addressed me in their emotionless voice. "You destroyed us, Beast Boy. You destroyed the team. If we disappear, remember it was entirely your fault." A jolt of pain went through my spine. I screamed. And found myself on the floor next to my bed.


Do you think dreams are symbolic? I do. I think dreams symbolize your conscious. What you really feel. I think that the subconscious knows everything. That why some people can dream up the answer. Because, subconsciously, they know the answer. At least, that what I theorize. I don't know what that dream would symbolize. If I wanted to find out, I'd have to discover who that was with the pale skin. And the monotone voice. And the disturbingly honest outlook.

I will find a meaning to this. See if I don't … unless it was all completely meaningless. That would be awkward. Really, very awkward.


How do you know when you're bored? When you start to count the number of spots the paint has chipped off of. Which is really fun to do … if you think that eating shit is fun, too.

"Forty-six thousand, eight hundred and seventy-one, forty-six thousand, eight hundred and seventy-two, forty-six thousand eight hundred and seventy-three –"

Wow, this paint has chipped a lot.

I was lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, counting paint chips. My new mask – courtesy of Slade – was settled comfortably on my face. My new uniform stretched over my skin, showing off muscled that I didn't know I had. So I'm a bit (cough – a lot – cough) vain, sue me!

There was a knock. A muffled voice came through the door. "Um … is anyone in there? I brought … whoever you are, some dinner." It sounded like a boy my age with flawless English and a tink French accent. I nodded, and then I realized that he couldn't see me. I walked over to the door and opened it.

Standing there was an orange-haired boy who was a few inches taller then me. His lank, oily braids fell down to his shoulders in a waterfall-esq pattern. His eyes were a bright red that was not meant for human eyes, and his eyebrows were unruly. His nose was crocked like it had been broken several times, and his mouth was set determinedly over a delicate chin. He wore a plain orange shirt with black arm guards and wrist guards. His jeans were plain black and worn at the knees, like he did a lot of crawling. His shoes were blood-red combat boots with black laces. He was holding a plain black tray that bore a plate of vegetables and fruits (anti-conformism forever!) and a Pepsi. There was also a note.

He stared at me in confusion. "I thought Slade's new apprentice would be a little more … imposing. You're a squirt," he stated plainly.

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered, opening the door wider and reaching for the tray. I pulled it out of his hands – none too gently, might I add – and moved to close the door.

He put his hand in the door and poked his head around. "I'm sorry," he told me, "I just have a habit of saying the worst possible thing. It just happens, you know. I'm sorry." He shifted uncomfortably. There was a pause before he added, "Call me Diable." I raised one of my eyebrows. I think he got the impression, because he added, "It means 'devil' in French." I nodded.

"So …" I began, widening the door. "Are you going to stay out there in the hall? I mean, you don't look like you've got to be anywhere in a hurry …"

His eyes grew wide. "You mean you're not mad at me or anything?" he asked. I nodded. He smiled widely.

He walked into my room and sat on the edge of my bed. "So … what are you? Like, are you a telekinetic, or have super strength, or some form of meta-human? Or are you some kind of lost spirit?" he asked enthusiastically. This must have been the best topic that they talked about here. Don't ask me about 'they'. You'll find out soon enough.

"I'm a shape shifter," I told him. "What do you do?"

"Me?" he asked, grinning lopsidedly and pointing his thumb at himself. "I melt things, and I can create and control fire. I guess that would be in the meta-human category."

"I met a pyro-kinetic once. He looked less human then you do, though," I mused, thinking back to the Tournament of Heroes. "Where're you from?" I asked, hoping for something that would fill the awkward silence.

"I used to live in France. I was born there, in a large country house. My father has the same abilities as me. The whole male side of my family has pyro-kinetic powers. Everyone thought they were hell spawn – hence my name, Diable – and would never come anywhere near our house or any of our family members and staff for fear of being sucked into Hell. When I was growing up, I didn't have any friends. At thirteen, about a year ago, I left for America. When I got here, I saw that I was kind of normal, there were so many meta-humans running around this side of the globe. But I realized that I was still considered a freak, it was just that there were more people for, and I quote, 'normal' human beings. I can't see how they can really consider themselves normal when they're always fighting amongst themselves, killing and warring against each other.

"After my first month here, I had been kicked out of my job once my boss found out about my abilities. That was when Slade found me. It was during the winter, and I was walking down the boulevard in downtown Steel City, when he approached me. He walked along in my direction, a few feet behind me. 'Evening', he said. I nodded. 'What bring you outside on a cold night like this?' he asked curiously. I shrugged. And he kept walking with me in silence. Finally, he asked me, 'where're you staying?' and I told him that once I was fired I had been kicked out of my apartment because I couldn't pay the rent. 'Do you need some place to stay?' he asked. Then I didn't know whether or not to trust him, so I took the offer. He's been training me for the past year."

I looked up at the pyro-kinetic from the place on my bed I had moved to during his story. "That sounds rehearsed," I informed him, grabbing another carrot.

"It is," he replied with a grin, taking a carrot stick too. "So where are you from? And what's your name?"

"Beast Boy," I told him. He gasped.

"Beast Boy! As in, the Teen Titans?" he asked excitedly.

"Erm, yeah," I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

He snapped his fingers, like a person does when they remember something they thought they had forgotten. "I thought you looked familiar," he declared triumphantly. "It was the green hair." He paused, seemingly troubled. Actually, he was troubled. I just like the word 'seemingly'.

"Why'd you quit?" he asked, a frown etched on his face.

My mouth and brain tried to work as I tried to simultaneously come up with a good excuse and tell him a believable lie. But there was really no need for that.

"He doesn't want to talk about it," said a smug female voice from the doorway. I turned to find a short and stocky purple-robe-clad female leaning against the door frame she had long, deep violet hair that flowed down past her waist. Her eyes were covered by black sunglasses with silver frames. A red spiked chocker was situated around her neck. Black combat boots peeked out from under her long robe. She approached Diable andme in lazy strides, her hips swinging strongly back and forth. She held out a hand for me to shake.

"I'm Helena. It's nice to meet you too, and could you please stop staring at me in awe? I can only be admired so much," she added, the smug grin becoming – you guessed it – smugger.

"What –" I didn't get to finish that sentence.

"– Are my powers?" she asked, smug grin still at the ready.

"How d'you –" that one either.

"– Know what you're going to say?"

"Can you –"

"– Read minds? You betcha."

My eyes widened. "Really! That's – that's –"

"– amazing? Yes, I think it rocks, too."

"Will you stop that!" as cool as mind reading was, I preferred to finish my own sentences, thank-you very, very much.

She smiled. "Sure," she said, sitting down next to us.

"So," I asked, watching her choose a carrot sticks (yes, I know there were too many carrot sticks on the plate), "Where do you come from?"

"That's classified information."

I tried again. "Is that you natural hair color?"

"That's classified information."

Time to play a little game. "Are you really a Goth, or just a poser?"

"Classified."

I hate the word 'classified'. "Would you actually call yourself a Goth?"

"Classified."

I was ready to spontaneously combust. "Do you actually know anyone who would be caught dead in that outfit?"

"Classified."

I blew up. "AAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH! IS THERE ANYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT ISN'T CLASSIFIED!"

She smirked smugly. "Classified."

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I fell over backwards onto my bed, glaring at her. She just giggled. Do girls have to giggle? God, I hate it when girls giggle. And all the while, Diable had been watching me and trying to keep a straight face.

Another girl appeared at the door. She wore a plain blue t-shirt and blue jeans. Her runners were white and her hair was an oily black. Her eyes were also obsidian. She stood tall, her nose held high in the air. "I'm sorry to crash your party, but I don't think that anyone didn't hear you. Terry's probably coming to."

Diable paled. With a small 'eep' he jumped off and hid over the other side of the bed. "Not Terry," he pleaded, peeking up slightly. While the girls were giggling, I had a puzzled look on my face. "You'll see," The newcomer told me, trying to contain her giggles. "By the way, I'm Alexis."

I couldn't respond, for at that moment, another boy appeared at the door. He wore a plain black jumpsuit with armored knee and chest guards. He wore mid-calf leather boots that had metal soles. Fingerless black gloves with a dragon pattern ran up to his elbows, and from his neck hung a silver pendant. His hair was waist-length and deep blue, almost black. His eyes glowed an imposing orange. His mouth was a thin, curved line. When he spoke, his voice was confident.

He ran slightly past us, but he grabbed onto the doorframe, pulling himself back to the room's entrance. He looked from Helena to Alexis to Diable (still cowering for reasons unknown) until his eyes finally landed on me. He approached me with his hand outstretched. "Hello," he addressed me, "I'm Terrance. Who're you?"

"Beast Boy," I said, reaching to shake his had. Instead of that, he bowed over my hand and kissed it. I stared at him with wide (very wide) eyes until Diable jumped up from behind me and hurled fireballs at Terry.

"Die, fag!" Diable yelled mockingly, charging at Terry, who was grinning widely. The two ran around the room, laughing loudly. Every once in a while, they would throw punches at each other, but would miss because they were laughing so hard. "It's their little male thing," Alexis explained as the two girls watched with small grin on their faces. It was the absolutely strangest thing I have ever seen. Well, almost. One of the strangest things I've ever seen.

At any rate, it took them about four minutes to calm down. Soon, everyone was sitting on my bed. It was then I noticed the note again. I picked it up and unfolded it. It was about a quarter of a page and was written in ornate writing.

Beast Boy (went the letter)

I hope that you find your new room enjoyable. Yes, I know that the paint is chipped (forty-six thousand eight hundred and seventy-three times, to be exact), but it should still be suitable for living. This note has been sent with Diable, whom you have presumably met. It may surprise you to learn that I have more then one pupil. It is not so much a school, but a family, albeit a very dysfunctional one. I'm sure you're thinking, 'how is it dysfunctional?' The definition of a dysfunctional family is one that isn't working or functioning properly. Many people have an ideal as to what 'proper' is. They define it as a normal family which does normal things. And the little family which we have accumulated here would definitely not be considered normal. So there you have it. Helena the psychic, Terrance the medieval sorcerer, Alexis the meat-human with abnormal strength, Diable the pyro-kinetic, and myself. With the recent addition of you, of course. That is, if you're willing to stay. If you decide to, Helena will be at your room in the morning to lead you to the training room, where you training will begin.

I read the letter again carefully. Then I grinned to myself as I looked up to see Diable and Terry bickering about God-know-what, and thought, Why not?


Unknown's POV

I had nothing but nightmares since I lay my head down on that pillow.

It had nothing to do with the pillow, mind: it was all to do with him. I knew he didn't know I liked him, but I felt shunned all the same. It was horrible. I felt that I was the reason he left, that he did that because he thought that I would want nothing to do with him.

You want to know about my nightmare? It was about him. Killing every single one of the Titans off. He was also wearing Slade's colors, black and orange. He looked like some freak dressed up for Halloween, but one thousand times more dangerous. He took out a pistol and shot down the other Titans. Then he rounded on me, cocked the gun, aimed briefly and fired. I woke up on the floor. I ran to the bathroom where I vomited up the little I had eaten that day.

I leaded on the bathtub for support as I dry-heaved, painful spasms wracking my body. I slowly stood and went over to the sink. I pulled a towel out from the drawer and poured water onto it, watching it soak up the liquid. I ran the cool cloth over my face, down my neck, and across my stomach, allowing the water to soak into the hem of the shorts I wear to bed.

I left the bathroom and walked over to the door. Stealthily I opened it, then snuck out and closed it behind me. I made my way up to the roof where I watched the city's lights flicker on and off.

Mars was the most noticeable thing in the Sky. The Planet of War was no more then a speck of red light in the sky, but it was still very imposing. Around it, swarming by the moon and covering the rest of the night sky were the small twinkles that were the stars. They shone up there so freely. I sighed. I was never going to get over the changeling, whether my feelings towards him were a mere crush as I had first suspected, or true love, or just lust. I would end up waiting for him, standing there for all eternity, never really having a purpose except being there after time had worn on. I would have to wait. I couldn't get over him. I wanted to, but I wasn't given a choice. I had to wait.

At least the stars had to suffer with me. After all, misery loves company.


A/N: How was that? I liked the last part. I don't know where it came from; I just know I love it. This chapter tried to hard. It wanted to be funny, although I don't particularly think it was. And Slade's note was a bit OOC, but I think that this story's going to be putting Slade into a different perspective. Once again, tell me who you thin Unknown was, or if you can't guess, who it should be. And, yet again, I'm sorry that this took so long. This is going to be my last update for a bit, because I have exams coming up, which suck. And I still have to stay in school for like, three weeks after that. I mean, isn't that pointless. Oh well. Review, please!