A/N: Guys, here it is: my preview for my new story (don't know when it'll be out) Snow Angel. Just so you know, this isn't in order and jumps around in the story a bit to give you an idea of what it's going to be like. So, please review and tell me what you think! I need opinions here, people.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gone, but the Ice Angel is, however, mine.

Dedication: To Miss Rouge Apple and Armygirl0604. Thanks for threatening—I mean asking me to write this. You totally deserve it.

Crystals:

From the moment she entered the room, he was hers.

There were no questions asked, no decision reached. It simply was what it was. There was no changing it. From the moment he looked into those witch-eyes, those cat-like, calculating eyes, he was gone, and there would be no coming back.

But what caused this? What sealed the deal?

Was it the way she strode into the room, unafraid, proud and tall, a lioness hunting down her prey? Perhaps the way she met his eyes first, choosing him over the adults in the room, meeting his eyes alone. The way she took his breath away with her stone beauty; an angel carved in marble. Her onyx hair folded neatly into a ponytail. Her deep, black eyes that never seemed to blink. Those long, slender hands, folded neatly in front of her. A graceful gazelle, parked in his kitchen. A wild animal, seemingly tamed, holding out a single paw.

But, no matter. There are no explanations for the unexplainable. There are no words for the unnamed. For, no matter the cause, she made the boy hers, and had no plans on letting go of his soul any time soon.

*

"Drake! Drake, come downstairs. We have a visitor!" his mother called, her bird-song voice echoing in the wide hallways.

Drake put down his Superman comic book. He knew his parents were going out for an evening on the town. He knew they wouldn't be back for quite some time, and were sending in a girl to watch over him. Drake thought it was perfectly ridiculous. He was old enough to watch himself; he was six years old for crying out loud! That was plenty old enough, at least in his mind.

With reluctance, Drake marched downstairs, angered by his mother's jovial expression. He didn't understand, even through the puttering and prepping, why his mother was so happy to be leaving him. It seemed to Drake that mothers and fathers should want to stay with their children, not desert them.

Still, he put on a smile for his cheerful mother, who cooed endlessly at him and mussed up his hair, chirping about, "what a big, grown-up boy" she had. Her words made Drake's stomach turn, but he held onto his smile. He was, after all, her little angel. And angels didn't grimace.

"Now, Drake, we want you to be on your best behavior tonight for Bianca," Drake's father said, a stern expression on his pinched features. "Do everything she says as you would for us. Don't stay up too late, and don't eat too much candy. Are we clear on this, young man?"

Drake nodded. He understood; no funny business.

"Good," Drake's father said, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. "Very good. Now, Drake, I'd like to introduce you to your house sitter for the night, Bianca."

Drake's father led him into the living room, where a slender fifteen-year-old girl was sitting, her face turned away. Drake saw midnight-colored hair pulled into a slick ponytail and lean fingers, which tapped out a tune on her knee.

And then she turned to face him.

It was like getting hit with a ten-ton train. Like being asleep all your life and jerking painfully awake. Those eyes…a person could drown in them. They seemed limitless and dark. A person could happily die in them.

Drake stared and stared and stared. He'd never met anyone who could keep an individual's gaze for so long. He'd never met anyone who looked so graceful, like a dancer, when she rose. He'd never met anyone like Bianca, period.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Merwin!" the girl sang, her voice lower and lovelier than Drake's mother's bird-song had ever been. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Bianca's eyes never left Drake's as she reached out and shook the Merwins' hands. Her tulip lips curved up in a slow smile; she knew. She'd known from that first moment of her untold victory, from the look of adornment in Drake's eyes. The only ones who hadn't noticed were the parents, and in Bianca's eyes, that was quite alright.

"The pleasure's all mine," Drake's father said, swallowing up the freshman's hand in his own. A look of disgust flashed across the girl's face, but it was quickly replaced by one of serenity and innocence.

"I see you've already met Drake," Mrs. Merwin chirped, noticing the eye contact between the two. Bianca's pearly whites flashed.

"Indeed, we have," she purred. She held out a hand for a trembling Drake to grasp.

"Um, hi," Drake mumbled. He was promptly nudged by his mother, encouraging him to say hello. Drake gulped; he'd never been good at social interactions.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Drake," Bianca said, giving him a playful wink as though they shared some wonderful secret.

"Now, do you have down all the emergency numbers?" Drake's mother called from the kitchen. She was rummaging through her purse, looking for her car keys. Drake's father stood by her side, looking impatient.

"Yes, Mrs. Merwin, I do. Everything's fine."

"Good, because I don't want anything to happen while we're away. Is that understood?" Drake's mother asked tartly. Bianca merely rolled her eyes and flicked her hair over her shoulders.

"Clear as crystals," she said.

After a moment of hesitation Drake's mother nodded, relenting.

"Alright…I suppose we'll see you when we get back." Mrs. Merwin hurried from the kitchen and threw her arms around Drake as though she might never see her precious boy again. She gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek and ruffled his hair once more before joining her husband at the door.

"Call if you need anything!" she shouted.

"We will; don't worry!" Bianca said. Mrs. Merwin gave them one last nod before the door slammed shut, locked and bolted. Finally, the sounds of an engine starting and a car driving away were heard. They were gone.

"Well, finally!" Bianca cried in a dramatic voice, plopping down in one of the living room's many chairs. "I thought we'd never get rid of them."

Drake giggled and sat down beside her. He had a feeling he was going to like this particular baby sitter.

*

"You know, Drake, I've always hated my name."

Bianca was sitting on the sofa, her legs stretched out before her, her hair in a halo around her head. She was studying her cuticles intensely, the TV forgotten in the background. Drake sat at her feet, staring at her tiny pink toes. They were so small and delicate, like little squirming puppies or fish. He touched one of them timidly, letting his fingers worm their way into the spaces between her toes. If Bianca minded his strange behavior, she did nothing to rebuke it.

"Why?" Drake asked, never taking his eyes off of her wiggling toes. They were painted a light sky blue, and they were curling up and down, moving back and forth, and mesmerizing him. This wasn't all too surprising; most everything the Ice Angel (as he gotten to thinking of her as) did absolutely enchanted him.

"Because, I just do. I mean, think about it! It's an awful name. Bianca Rose, Bianca Rose. I hate it. I hate it when people call me Bianca Rose, call me by my full name, or try to be cute and call me Beebe. Beebe Rose. God, how annoying is that?" she growled.

Drake winced at Bianca's harsh tones. Around him she was usually sweet and kind, never having a bad word to say about him. This was the angriest she'd ever gotten around him, though Drake wasn't too worried. After all, teenagers often went into sudden fits of rage, didn't they? Wasn't that normal for them?

"Well, I won't call you Bianca again." Drake tugged on the Ice Angel's big toes, pleased when it obeyed him and uncurled, allowing him full access to sparkling blue nail polish.

"Good," Bianca muttered, putting her arm over her eyes. After a moment she lifted the arm, sitting up a little to look Drake in the eye. For a moment he quit his playing with her toenails and stared into her fathomless eyes.

"Then what will you call me?" she asked in a low voice.

"Ice Angel," Drake whispered when he remembered his voice. "I'll call you Angel."

After a moment the Ice Angel grinned, her canines flashing in the dim light. "You know, Drake, I happen to think that name is perfect. Angel. Your little Ice Angel."

She leaned forward to whisper breathily in his ear, "I love it."

*

Burning. That was the only feeling that registered in the young boy's mind. He was burning alive.

Sharp, kitten's nails traced his outline greedily. Drake gasped, his breath whooshing out of him like wind. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even see past the shroud of darkness that covered him totally. I'm burning up. It's like I'm on fire! he thought.

Long hair flopped in front of his face. The long locks entangled themselves in Drake's face and mouth; the airy scent of lilacs filled his nose, wanting to suffocate him. Drake chocked and sputtered, his breath hitching into sobs. Everything was spinning; the room, the hair, his mind. Everything flashed in front of him with a brilliant light that left him blind. Blind, but not deaf.

"Drake," the Ice Angel whispered. He could hear her labored breathing, feel her hands on his waist and chest, her pearly pink toes gouging out the soft skin of his thighs. Her lips were pressed to his neck, and while this sensation was usually pleasurable, as of now it was horrifying. Drake could feel saliva running down his chin, could feel burning arms wrap themselves around him in a never-ending embrace.

For a moment, Drake tried to save himself. "Bianca," he pleaded, "Stop. Stop, please," he whimpered. After a moment the Ice Angel pulled away, only to dash his hopes and slap him hard across the cheek. Her long nails cut his lip and drew blood, leaving a sour taste in the young boy's mouth.

"Never call me that," she hissed. "Never."

And then they were back where they started; Bianca demanding and Drake relinquishing. The only deference was in Drake; he knew he couldn't win. From that very first moment, from the very first time he'd seen her, he'd been made hers. It was a deal written in blood, one that could not be ignored. A deal that clearly stated who was dominant and who was a servant. Who would submit, and who would be the submitter.

"That's better," the Ice Angel whispered in Drake's ear.

He hardly noticed over the sound of his own heart-racking sobs.

*

Outside of his house, a cool breeze ruffled Drake Merwin's hair. He hardly noticed as he sat on the front steps of his house, putting his head in between his hands.

He couldn't think. Thinking felt like suffocating now a days; like he couldn't breathe. He was burning on the inside, all the time now. Burning with anger. With hatred. Drake had never experienced such raw and powerful emotions before. It was terrifying to have the first thing he felt upon waking in the mornings and sleeping in the evenings be absolute hate. A flaming passion that ate him up from the inside out.

Drake let out a silent howl of frustration. His parents weren't making things any easier. They were just making everything more difficult! All they wanted to know was where their little angel had gone, their precious little Drake. They wanted to know why, at almost seven years old, he spent his days sulking around the house, glaring at people. Why he would suddenly go into fits of rage. Why he would take hour long showers some days when he came home from school. Why he hardly touched his food at dinner. Why, why, why.

"Shut up!" Drake yelled aloud, scaring a nearby bird. "All of you, just shut up!"

How could they stand to be so cheerful? Drake asked himself. How? How could they go on, pretending everything was alright with the world, being happy, when he was in so much pain? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that all of his friends smiled and laughed the way he used to, the way the world kept spinning around him, when he felt like his mind had tilted off its axis…

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Drake glanced up. A small rabbit stood before him, chewing on a carrot piece. Its wide, innocent eyes stared up into his own.

"Go away," Drake growled.

The rabbit cocked his head to the side, examining Drake. Its ears stuck up in an annoyingly cute way. Drake gritted his teeth, trying to calm down. Right now he was too angry, too out of control. He had to be careful. He couldn't afford to do something stupid. Right now he was angry enough to…to just…kill something.

A small squeak was emitted by the rabbit. Drake's fists clenched; his breathing came in hard and fast. He really was that angry. I could just kill something, he thought to himself. Drake's thoughts spun and collided with each other. The pent up anger was too much for him to handle or control. Soon Drake was hyperventilating, his pupils dilating, his vision growing red. He was going to explode soon. He knew it.

And that rabbit! That stupid, stupid rabbit. It was still advancing. Still reaching out, trustingly, searching for more food. Those stupid innocent eyes. Since when did anything or anyone have the right to be that blind, that ignorant? Since when did they have the right to be happy? To laugh, to smile…to trust?

Drake's hands shook. He couldn't take it anymore. He felt like there was a black hole in the pit of his stomach, swallowing him whole. He felt like he was being eaten body and soul from the inside out.

Drake met the rabbit's eyes. He reached out with trembling fingers, grabbing onto the rabbit's neck. The dumb animal still didn't understand that anything was wrong, that it was in trouble. It just kept staring ahead, blind and blissful, as Drake's heart raced.

And then Drake began to squeeze.

The rabbit twisted and squirmed in his grasp, finally recognizing the danger about it. But it was much, much too late. There was no other possibility but death for the dumb creature. Drake was flying high, letting out his anger, his frustration, his guilt.

God, Drake, can't you just shut up? the Ice Angel whispered in his mind. Just relax…enjoy yourself. Yeah, that's it. That's it.

As Drake chocked the life from the rabbit he felt the Ice Angel's words brush his ear, her tongue flicker on his neck. Rage took over, leaving Drake a sobbing, shaking mess. He was out of control, the rabbit's pleading eyes a shadow in comparison to the Angel's wicked smile. She filled his vision, his mind, whispering awful things to him as he slept, kissing him while awake. She completely controlled him, took away his freedom. She made him a prisoner in his own mind, unable to scream or break free, causing him to slowly go mad.

The lifeless rabbit dropped from Drake's outstretched hands.

He'd made his first kill. He wasn't even seven.

So, did you love it? Hate it? Did you have no idea what the heck was going on? Nevertheless, review! I will have a new Drabbles out…next week? Yeah, probably next week. I'll get to the suggested pairings then. Seriously, guys, keep those coming.

Later!