It had been a night just like the one before it, and the one before that. Nothing stood out in her memory to warn her of what would happen. Not even after everything had already taken place so many times in her own consciousness; not even after it took over her subconscious. Was she doomed to remember it for the rest of her life? Or was her life over? Everything else seemed normal, but she couldn't seem to wake up. Here she was, sitting on a chair, while there she was, nearby, laying on a bed. What was happing to her? Was she going crazy? As she contemplated this, she didn't seem to realize her mind slipping back into its dream state, back into the night that had taken almost everything from her.

Staring around her memory, she could see nothing different, except now everything seemed to be more in focus than it had been before. Perhaps with each visit, this would happen? Either way, there she was, moving her feet without telling them to, going through the motions of the night, reliving her nightmare as she dreamed. Just like the last couple of weeks, she'd chosen the quickest way home to avoid being caught outside at night, since she'd been forced to work late at her new job. Everything seemed normal, except the usual staring men that would watch her walk by, whistle as she went past. It hadn't been her best idea to take the job at the diner when she'd found it. Especially since it was so far from home.

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, her dream form tugged at the edges of the black waitress skirt, pulling it as far down as she could without pulling it off altogether. Her pale legs glinted in the moonlight as she scurried around more gangs of people hanging around the streets. They'd been nothing to worry about for the past couple of weeks, and she'd become used to side-stepping them and avoiding them all. Keeping her head low, allowing her dark hair to fall over the front of her face, she followed the path she always took and turned the final corner, a block away from her home. That was when it all became a blur in her mind. The scent of ash, the feeling of pain, the cry of lost love. She'd known it was him when it happened. She'd known who would be the one to hate her so.

Her eyes jerked open and it was all she could do to stifle her whimper of pain and close them once more. She knew she had to pretend to be lost still. If he knew she was awake, he'd have her done in by now. He'd have slit her neck, smothered her, strangled her, anything he could do to kill her.

"Don't bother faking, sweetheart." She gasped audibly and her eyes shot open and fixed upon his form, leaned over her bed the way he was. Leaning so easily and calmly, as if he had every right in the world to be there. "I didn't mean to pull your halo down and around your neck, 'Angel', but I couldn't just sit here and let you drift off before I'd had my fun, now could I?" She began struggling, pulling her arms and legs, but found it was to no avail. Each of her limbs were bound tightly to the posts of his bed. It was all she could do to not imagine the pain that would come to her now before she was finally accepted by death. It'd seemed she'd almost been taken, as he'd implied, but he'd brought her back. She thought to ask why, but she knew his reasons exactly.

"Now, while you're in my power, why don't we play a little game, 'Angel'?" He extracted a scalpel from a cup on the bedside table and began to slowly cut her shirt away from her torso. He'd known this was her worst fear, what she never wanted to experience before she died. Now, she would have to live through it all, as she was no longer in her dream state. "Our little game, sweetheart, will be called 'Doctor'. I'll be the Doctor, Angel, and you'll be the patient. Oh, but it seems you've died. Oh no, I guess I'll have to cut you open and find out why. Time to find out what makes you tick!"

Slowly, he slid the scalpel into her skin as he pushed his hand against her mouth to keep her from screaming. "Oops! Seems like I've forgotten something!" Carelessly, he let the surgical instrument slip from his hand and reached over her to grab part of her shirt, taking care to lean against the blade and push it into her body at the wrong angle. Tears leaked from her eyes and she shut them tightly. Inside, she was sobbing from the pain, her throat already aching as she attempted to scream for help, but she knew it was useless. She recognized this room, she'd spent many nights here before. Everything was familiar to her, and she knew they were no where near civilization.

Standing back up straight, he let his arm catch hold of the blade and turn the other way, causing more blood to well up around the cut he'd already made. Holding the majority of what used to be her shirt, he stuffed it into her mouth to keep her from screaming too loudly. It wouldn't attract attention, but it sure would be annoying. Dipping a finger into the blood that welled up around the knife, he raised the hand to his lips and tapped the tip to his tongue, savoring the metallic taste it brought to his senses. Such an interesting flavor, human blood, one such that no other thing he'd tasted even seemed to come close to it.

Smirking, he pulled the scalpel from her wound and with a swift movement, cut a precision line directly down the center of her body. With two more strokes just like the one before, he'd cut into her like an examiner into a cadaver. Any screams she would have uttered were lost against the fabric of what had once been her waitress blouse. She could feel the blood streaking down the sides of her body as each nerve ending screamed at her brain as if on fire, and indeed they were, on fire from pain. It never seemed to stop. His hands explored the opening he'd made before he reached down and with a gentle flick of his hand, snapped one of her ribs.

Tears streaked down her face, mixing with the dirt she'd acquired in the struggle to capture her. Everything seemed useless now, and she wished she could just fall unconscious from the pain. It was all so horrid, she wished she could just stop everything. Just as this thought crossed her mind, he flicked his hand once more and snapped another two ribs, taking care to be as rough as possible now. Reaching his hand inside the cavity of her chest, he let his hand stroke the arteries that led to her heart before leaning down to whisper into her ear.

"Night, night, Angel."

His hand closed around her heart, squeezing hard as he yanked with every muscle he could. Her last thought before she experienced the worst pain of her short life, I guess I shouldn't have killed his brother.