Crona's hands shook as he rummaged through his bag, searching for his keys. His fingers shifted through the dust and cookie crumbs at the bottom, probing for the cold metal. Already he was shivering, his breath misting in front of him. Night in the desert city was cold, with temperatures often dropping to below zero. All he wanted to do was get inside, out of the freezing dungeon of a hallway and attach himself to the radiator. But then his brain would defrost and he wasn't sure if he wanted to think.

It was more than a week since Maka had left the hospital, and she hadn't shown any sign of remembering their dreams, or her terrors after it. Yet, he felt that she looked at him with guarded eyes and that their conversations were more formal than her felt necessary. The minute she was able, she had of course asked about Faye. She had gotten the same reply as everyone else, that she had been claimed by Lord Death and supposedly killed. However, this reassurance didn't seem to satisfy her and her eyes still flashed whenever she was mentioned. Soul had grown even more protective of her, glaring at anyone who approached her, even staying with her in the library.

They went back to training before Maka was technically able, and even with her leg in plaster, the fought with a ferocity that Crona had never seen before. They weren't allowed to go on missions until Maka had completely healed, but still they trained, staying long after everyone else had stopped for the day. There was intensity about their movements in training that was starting to worry Crona. Apart from soul, he knew Maka better than anyone, and he knew she didn't like to lose. Boy did he know it.

His mind kept going back to that dream. There had been none more like it since, but he wasn't sure the same could be said for Maka; she often arrived into school with dark circles under her eyes. But then, she had a lot more to have nightmares about.

With a sigh of relief Crona finally located his keys and managed to get into his room. His apartment was barely less cold than the hall outside and as he pushed open the door he was greeted only by the shadow-swathed furniture and the echo of his own sigh. Maka had done her best to make the dungeon more cheerful, giving him bright, kooky blankets to cover the bed, pasting on his walls posters and pictures of his friends, even breaking the sparseness of the floor with a rug. But she couldn't hide the high, echoing ceiling, or possibly over all the cracks on the walls. She couldn't reach to take away cobwebs that always gathered in the corners. Nor did all the posters change the fact that he didn't know any of the bands.

The rug beneath his feet was threadbare and he crossed it to throw himself onto his bed, ignoring the bedside light. Death knows he spent so much time in the darkness it was just about the only thing that he could actuary deal with. Plus, sometimes he felt better if he couldn't actually see his room. For all Maka's efforts, this was not home. It wasn't the cute, cosy apartment that Soul and Maka shared, or the traditional yet haphazard house of black star and Tsubaki. It definitely wasn't the immaculate perfectly parallel mansion of Death the Kid and the twins. But Crona wasn't sure if he'd consider those places home if he lived there either. Flopping onto his side, Crona glanced hesitantly over his shoulder.

"Ragnarok, are you there?" he called, for moment unsure the he would even answer. But then came the little demon's voice, echoing inside his head.

"Whaaa-aaat?" even in his mind Ragnarok sounded tired.

"why haven't you been coming out?" asked Crona tentatively, readying himself for a thump around the head for when Ragnarok decided to pop out and beat him for accusations of laziness. Instead there was only a vague shaking feeling at the back of his skull and the voice that roared at him seemed far away.

"Hey, that snot far, pipsqueak! Who had to take the hit from those shadow-things?"

"Well, you bu-"

"M-I-E, me, that's who! Takes a lot outta you, protecting your vessel from whips of death, y'know!"

"Oh-Oh I'm sorry" mumbled Crona, but was nevertheless relieved to hear the familiar whine of the demon after so long. Ragnarok snorted.

"Damn right your sorry, why I oughta…" but his threats faded int silence, though Crona could still sense he was talking, occasional phrases, "when I get out…" "Won't be able to see straight…" but otherwise he could barely tell he was there. He couldn't figure out if this new shutting-out thing was the work of Ragnarok or himself. He wasn't exactly complaining, but it was a strange feeling of being alone, even with Ragnarok there.

He sat up and sat with his back against the wall, his knees drawn up under his chin, and stared pensively into space. The murderous moon rose into the sky, and soon Crona began to doze, escaping for the worrisome thoughts crowding his head and whispering for attention.

He was in a misty, featureless realm, thick clouds swirling around his body. Unable to gauge distance, he stumbled a few steps, and found himself in a clearing between clouds. I huge, dark shape loomed out of the mist in front of him, easily five times taller than Crona.

It was a giant snake, carved of a dull, great stone. Poised to strike, its jewelled eyes glittered almost as if it were real. Crona hated snakes, but still found himself drawn towards the sculpture. With a cautious hand he reached out to feel the stone, but to his horror the scales beneath his hand were warm, and moved with life.

A poisonous hiss rose and looking up Crona found himself gazing up at a statue that was coming to life. What before were glittering topaz jewels, were now malicious, yellow eyes that sought him out and narrowed in focus.

With a yell he jumped from the first strike, trying desperately to summon Ragnarok, but to no avail. As the snake drew back again, he scrambled to his feet and ran into the clouds, the snake hot on his heels.

The clouds grew thick and sticky as he tried to run through them, and soon he was caught as well as a fly in a web. As he continued struggling, the snake drew itself up slowly to strike. As it opened its massive jaws, venom dripping from the yellowed fangs as long as Crona's arm, a hissing voice filled the air, its raspy, hissing tone reminding him of his mother's when she was angry.

"iiiiiifffff you cccontinueee with your ffffolly you will meet a fffffate worssssse than thisssss"

The snake struck.

He awoke with a start, and nearly fainted away as he saw a shadow thrown against the wall that was not his own. Jumping from his bed he spun, taking in his room; even in the darkness he could see there was no one else there. She shadow began to move across the wall and slipped under the door. Without knowing what he was doing, Crona began to follow it. just as he was about to tune the cold steel handle, something stopped him. There were voices outside, coming down the corridor. He glanced over his shoulder to check his clock- it was far too late for any students to be in school. Feeling only mildly ashamed, he pressed his ear to the door, and listen to the conversation as it passed by.

"Can't see a damn thing after being down there," moaned a voice. Crona couldn't be sure, but he thought it was Spirit. A cranking sound told Crona that Stein was behind the second set of footsteps.

"Well, you shouldn't keep staring into the lights then," he said smoothly, and even from behind the door, Crona could smell the cigarette smoke.

"that's impossible, after what it did, I can't keep my eyes off it."

"You mean that a girl in chains appeals to your dirty mind, pervert."

"What! It has nothing to do with that, I'm not a pervert! What about you, you fr-" the voices faded into the distance, leaving Crona slightly bewildered. What were they even doing down here? Especially Spirit; it had been strange, Crona had thought, that he hadn't been seen around much the past few weeks. Usually taking anytime to be the overbearing, doting father, Spirit had been mysteriously absent. Only bothering Maka in the form of massive bouquets of flowers, which she duly ignored. Yet here he was, no more than five minutes away from her, and fully capable of annoying Maka in person, yet he was skulking around the dungeons of the school.

And Stein was with him. Come to think of it, many of the teachers of the school had been missing classes lately, and often he passed them in secretive huddles. A few had been called in that he hadn't seen in years, like Marie and -. Up till now he just thought it was to help get everything back on track; he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to see that obvious connections.

Crona stepped out into the corridor. It was still well-lit with torches, why couldn't Spirit see? Cigarette smoke still curled in tendrils around the flames. He had heard the climb the stairs away, so that meant that they had come from… Crona stared to his left, away down the cold, looming corridor that seemed like a sucking mouth of darkness. He began walking.

Well hello there! I don't suppose you remember me, the author of this fic. God I've been doing this forever. This is a world away from what fifteen-year-old me started. I hope to be finished soon, this is my oldest fic, but I'm really a different person and I don't even see Crona as male anymore. But I will persevere, and thank you everybody who has stuck with me, and who reads and reviews. I have, once again, gone through the whole fic and rewritten and improved, tell me what you think!