The man slowly awoke, and squinted at the clock; seven. Still early, he thought. It was early, but he was unable to sleep. The dreams kept him awake. Strange dreams about strange places, with stranger people whom he felt that he should know. He could never remember all of the dreams; only bits and pieces, but enough to disturb him when he awoke.

He gently gave the woman a kiss on the forehead, and carefully moved her so he could get out of bed. She stirred slightly and murmured something unintelligible, then went back to sleep. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and wandered into the kitchen, thinking that coffee was definitely good idea. He cursed when he discovered that there were no coffee filters. The only substance, that he could find, that contained caffeine was instant coffee. He hated instant coffee, but caffeine was caffeine, and caffeine was definitely a must have at the moment.

Three minutes later he was sitting down at the table behind a steaming cup of the instant stuff. He tried to remember the details of the dream, but all he could remember was darkness, fire, and lots of shadowy figures. Nothing else would stay. All of the important details would dance just beyond his reach. The harder he tried to remember, the faster they danced away.

He didn�t hear the woman enter the kitchen, and didn�t even realize that she was there until she ran a hand down his back. He jumped and turned around. "Hello Mair, I didn�t hear you".

"I�m sorry. Bad dreams, Luke?"

"Yeah," as he turned back to the table and the cup of impostor coffee. "Something to that effect." She gently traced the outline of the black and white wings that were tattooed on his back. She loved those tattoos, she said that she had never seen such detail before. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I have to get up anyway; work." She slid onto his lap. "I have to go in for the morning shift today." He gave her a quick kiss. He was in love, he was sure of that. He wasn�t sure if he wanted to marry her yet, but he thought about it. They had known each other almost three years and lived together for almost two.

"I�ve got to get moving, or I�ll be late."

"Go, I don�t want to hear about how Kathy yelled at you for being late."

"I guess, but I�d rather stay here, it�s more fun." She smiled and bit his ear.

"Don�t tempt me, go." He smiled. She was the only one who had a steady job, he didn�t. She got up and practically skipped back into the bedroom. A few minutes later he heard the shower and the radio. He got up and got another cup of so called �instant coffee�.

I should get a job, he thought. Something that will bring in a steady paycheck. Mary�s the one who brings in most of the money, I should try to be more of a help.

When he started on his third cup of "coffee", Mary came out of the bedroom, dressed in her white nurse�s uniform. "I should be back by four or five." She said as she walked across the kitchen, putting her hair into a braid. "Can you make a run to the store for me?"

"Sure, whatcha need?"

"I left a list and money on the dresser. If you can get to the store I�d be grateful." She put her coat on and grabbed her purse.

"I�ll go," he said, getting up and crossing the room to take her into his arms. "Aren�t you going to eat anything?"

"I�ll go through the drive-thru,"

"O-Kay, I�ll see you when you get back, and I�ll have a nice dinner ready for you."

"Sounds great, I don�t think I�ll be able to wait."

They exchanged good-byes, then Mary left, leaving Luke alone in the apartment. He put the used cup into the sink and headed into the shower, remembering to add coffee filters to the list of things to get.

A quick shower and shave later and he was ready to go out and face the world for the day. He wandered outside, no particular place in mind to go. Just walking. The day was slightly cool, but nice. You still needed some sort of light jacket. People were out and about enjoying the beautiful weather, while it lasted.

A few blocks from his apartment, he saw a sign for help wanted in a store window. The store was one of those new-age, wiccan-type stores. The stores that sell tarot cards, candles, incense, jewelry, books and various other strange things. Luke decided to ask about the job, he thought that it wouldn�t hurt to try.

The inside of the store was dark, the air was filled with the mixed smell of flowers, vanilla, and spice. There were hanging tapestries and gargoyle statues that were hidden on the shelves between books. Candles were scattered throughout the store, and jewelry was found inside the glass counter.

A tall, thin, blond man who was standing behind the cash register looked up when Luke entered the store. He brightened up when Luke asked about the job. They talked for a half hour, during which Luke found himself gainfully employed. James was the man�s name, and he told Luke to come back the next day.

Once he was finished in the store, called the Black Cat, he wandered towards the grocery store. On the way, he spotted a street preacher, yelling about the glories of God and the evils of Satan, and how if you don�t follow God�s word, you will burn in hell. There was something about the man that caught Luke�s attention. Nothing was special about the man or in what he was saying, but Luke stopped and listened. As he watched, Luke slowly realized that there was something familiar about the man, a realization that he had met this man before.

The man didn�t notice Luke standing there and watching, not at first. He was too busy yelling about Satan, and how Satan was the embodiment of all that was evil and destructive. That�s not true, Luke thought for no apparent reason. Satan�s not evil, he just got the fuzzy end of the lollipop, that�s all.

After listening for about five minutes, he turned to leave. This was stuff that people preached about all of the time. It was starting to get trite. "You!!" The street preacher yelled after Luke. "Do you remember your place in the Lord�s plans?!!!!"

"Excuse me?" Luke said, finding himself unnerved by what the preacher had said.

"Do you remember your place? Do you know what you are supposed to be?" The man was getting excited, he was looking possessed. Luke was getting nervous.

"I don�t know what you are talking about." He started to back away, feeling slightly frightened.

"You know." The preacher hissed.

At that, the man turned away and started yelling his sermon to the passing cars. Luke walked very quickly down the street and away from the street preacher. Something about what he had said brought back the feelings from his dreams: feelings of helplessness and fear, pain and hopelessness. And darkness, everything was dark, and hot. The heat was unbearable. He didn�t want to remember that. Not now.

Trying not to be too disturbed by what the preacher had said, trying not to think, he quickly got the stuff on the list and headed back to his apartment. On his way into the building he found a note tacked to the door. He didn�t think much of it at first, the Jones� would often leave notes. He pulled the note off the door and entered the apartment.

He didn�t look at the note until after he had the groceries unpacked (he remembered the coffee filters, of course). The message on the note unnerved him almost as much as the street preacher had. "Don�t you remember who you are?" was all that the note had said.

I remember who I am, he thought, going into the bedroom and sitting on the bed. There isn�t much to remember, but I remember it. I was born in California. I never knew who my father was. My mother died when I was ten. I was bounced from home to home for eight years. then I came to New York. I don�t understand why this is bothering me so much.

He sat staring at the note for awhile. He didn�t know why it was bothering him. He kept thinking of what the street preacher had said, he tried to remember his dreams. The whole mystery would be solved if he could remember, but remember what? What did he need to remember? Did he need to remember who put the note there? Was it the preacher, but how did the preacher know where he lived? Unless he was stalking him, but why was he being stalked? And why was the stalker saying he needed to remember? Why must I remember? I�m perfectly happy right here, just the way I am. If it�s unpleasant, why bother to bring it up? The mind forgets things for a reason, and boy are you trying to make excuses. The reason you don�t want to remember is because you are too cowardly.

He managed to put the events out of his mind for the rest of the night. Mary was exhausted when she returned from her job, but she wasn�t too tired to enjoy a meal with Luke before she crawled into the bathtub. She was happy to learn that Luke had found a job, and said that she would have to go and check out the store.

They spent the rest of the evening and night doing nothing. That night Luke had no dreams. The next day he was up and out at nine, heading towards The Black Cat. Not much happened that day, James showed Luke how to run the cash register, where everything could be found, and various other things that needed to be known. Business wasn�t very fast, but it was steady, there were always about two or three people in the store.

Around one, James offered to give Luke a tarot reading. Luke never had a reading done before, and accepted out of curiosity. Afterwards he wished he hadn�t.

The cards were laid out in a Celtic Cross formation, face down. The first cards that were turned over were nothing that caught Luke�s eye, nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. The last card turned over was the devil, a card of temptation, and other things.

The reading overall showed change, and remembering the past, returning to the past. The devil was what he was working towards, what his future would be. James said that it was a plan that was about to be executed. Luke didn�t think it meant what James said it did. It meant something else, but Luke wasn�t sure what. It wasn�t something that Luke wanted to know.

He hoped that his shock and fear didn�t show. He was pretty sure it didn�t, because James didn�t say anything. For the rest of his shift, Luke stayed away form the tarot cards.

He couldn�t wait until his shift was over. He wanted to leave, to go home, but the time seemed to pass by slowly, on purpose. Once his shift was over he headed straight to his apartment, and as soon as he got inside he locked the door behind him. While he was walking, the painting on the card kept floating into his mind. Something was weighing on the back of his mind, along with the card, something he needed to know, to remember. This something had to do with his dreams, the street preacher, the note and the tarot reading. Fire, Satan, remember, and the devil. Why was he thinking about the devil and hell? What was so important about those things? It wasn't a religious thing, Luke was an atheist. Why was the street preacher familiar? Luke was sure he had never met the man before, positive.

He paced around the apartment, not sure what to do. A drink seemed like a start, something to help him relax. A drink and some rest, a definite plan. He went to the refrigerator to grab a beer, and stopped when he noticed the card taped to the door. It was a tarot card, the devil. He froze in place, not knowing what to do. The door was locked when he came home, no sign of forced entry. He locked the door after he came in. Mary wouldn�t leave a tarot card taped to the fridge, she didn�t even like tarot cards. He was sure no one came in behind him. Where did it come from? Who put it there? Why did they put it there?

Slowly, he reached out and took the card off the door. Looking at the goat on the card, he remembered fire, and screams, and pain, and darkness. Forever darkness, with no hope, no light, and heat. His hand shook. The answer was just beyond his reach. He could see it, but couldn�t grasp it.

He didn�t want to grasp it.

He crumpled the card in his fist and threw it into the sink, then turned on the water. He watched as the card slowly soaked up the water, shrank, and went down the drain. When he turned off the water, he got a beer and headed to the bedroom.

The beer was gone in less than two minutes, but he didn�t feel like getting up to grab another one. He lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "Don�t you remember who you are?" the note had said. "Do you know what you are supposed to be?" the street preacher had said. The dreams of fire, of people screaming, the pain. The connection refused to be made in his mind. The phone rang, causing Luke to jump and very nearly scream. He wasn�t going to answer it, but the caller didn�t hang up. He picked up the receiver, on the fifteenth ring, meaning to just drop it, but put it to his ear instead.

"Hello?"

"Don�t you remember who you are?" It was the street preacher. Luke hung up. How did that maniac get my number, he thought. He hung up. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. Not wanting to answer the phone, but finding himself reaching for the receiver anyway.

"Hello?" trying not to sound as shaken as he was.

"Don�t you remember what you are supposed to do? Don�t you remember your place?" The same caller as before. Luke ripped the phone out of the wall and threw it against the wall, yelling; "I don�t want to!!"

He sat on the bed for a moment, looking at the phone�s broken casing, the dreams from the past few nights going through his head. He thought he had it figured out, but it made no sense.

He slowly got off of the bed and headed into the kitchen. The card was still in the sink, still wet, he thought it would be taped back up on the fridge. He opened the door, and grabbed another beer. Drowning sorrows in alcohol was not a good idea, but it stopped the thinking for awhile, which was what he wanted.

He got through three more bottles when he decided that sitting around drinking was pathetic, and that he should be doing something constructive, like reading, walking, anything. He got up slowly, and threw the empty bottles into the recycling can. He wasn�t sure what he wanted to do, go out and take a walk, get some fresh air and exercise. That was a good idea. He grabbed his coat and went out. He took turns at random, not paying any attention to where he was going, not caring where he was going as long as it was away. He didn�t know how long he was out, didn�t care, when he noticed that evening was setting in, he decided to head back.

Roughly half way back to the apartment, somebody stepped behind him. He paid no attention. When he turned onto a deserted street, the person who was following, grabbed him from behind and put a knife to his throat. "Give me your money, now."

Luke just looked at the knife, feeling totally unthreatened. "You want my money?" He asked casually, as if this was conversation over a cup of coffee.

"No, I want to dance. Now, give me your money."

When asked later, the kid thought he was being attacked by a demon. He swore that Luke�s eyes had turned red. Luke couldn�t believe what he had done when he thought about it later that night. After the dance crack, Luke turned suddenly and rammed his elbow into the kid�s liver. He then turned and grabbed the kid, and slammed him into the wall, head first. He repeated the action four times before realizing what he was doing. He couldn�t believe it, it was like he became somebody else entirely. He hated fighting, avoided it at all cost, but he was tearing into this kid like a madman, and was enjoying it. That was what frightened him the most, he enjoyed it. He was going to kill the kid, that was what his only thought was, kill the kid and sent him to hell. < P> He stopped, took a step back and let the kid fall, unconscious. He looked at his hands, no blood. He ran, fast, not wanting to stay there. A few blocks away he called the police and told them that there was a fight and somebody was injured severely. He then gave an address and hung up.

He wanted to rationalize what had just happened, but couldn�t. It had happened so fast, he couldn�t find a place to start at. He also couldn�t believe what he was feeling while he beat, probably killed, that kid. He hated the kid, wanted to kill him for what he tried to do, he reveled in it. He started walking, not heading back to his apartment, he would never go back there again, he was heading toward where he last saw the street preacher.

The preacher knew who he was, and he wanted to know, know what that man knew.

When he reached the corner, the one where Luke last saw him, there was nobody there. The street was empty, except for the occasional passing car. When he turned to leave, the street preacher was standing behind him. Luke didn�t hear anyone come up behind him, the street was totally empty, the street preacher just appeared out of thin air, literally.

"Do you remember who you are?" He asked Luke, waiting expectantly for the answer that he knew he was going to get.

"Yes, I know who I am." He said, amazed that he could admit it.

"Do you know what your place is, what you�re supposed to do?"

"Yes, I do" Luke said, and paused. He couldn�t believe he had gotten so caught up in playing human that he had forgotten his purpose, and who he really was. He also had fallen in love, something that hadn�t happened in a long time. He thought he had forgotten how. "I remember who I am now, I won�t forget again, I promise."

The street preacher smiled. "I knew you would, with some help. Now go, we�re behind as it is, we have a lot of catching up to do."

Luke nodded, turned and left, chiding himself for being a fool. How could he have forgotten who he really was, it was ridiculous! I am Satan, he told himself, and I have a lot to so and so little time to do it in.

He headed towards the bus station, whistling a happy tune. He had no reason to stay here anymore. His business was elsewhere at the moment. He was thinking of going back to California, fun could be found there. He might come back someday for Mary.

He did love her after all.