Is this a dream; is it real; if it is, please don't wake me from this high.

April 15,

I dreamed of him again last night. It was so vivid, and, yet, I couldn't control him. I never can. I have as much control over myself as in real life, but, him...it's like he's there. Is it possible that he's...no. I can't go down that road. I won't go down that road. I'll only drive myself insane. Sometimes I think I'm already insane. So what's the harm?

If, somehow, he managed to survive-he couldn't have survived, I watched him die-and discovered, or suddenly decided to use dreamwalking abilities on me, he would say something, wouldn't he?

Wouldn't he?

He loved me. I know he loved me. He's the only person I've ever truly loved whose blood doesn't course through my veins, and I know him-knew him. He loved me.

He loved me.

I don't doubt it, so how can I possibly think that he could be alive and not tell me? Why would he condemn me to such torture? He wouldn't. Ever. Unless...maybe, if it was for my protection. But from who? And why? It doesn't make any sense. This theory is crazy and if I don't stop thinking about it, I'm going to go bonkers.

Balthasar is drawing closer. I can feel it. I have a veritable armory here. Let him come. I'll re-introduce him to the meaning of pain. Maybe I'll re-break that crippled wing of his. All in your name, Love. It's all for you.

(Written in the private, handwritten journal of Lillith Marx in a scrambled mixture of all of the languages she knows, so as to keep anyone who might find it from being able to read it. She also garnered a favor back when she was a ranked demon that anyone who tried to read it would immediately be stricken blind and deaf. Maximum security, anyone?)