Today, Kurt Wagner was excited. He paced his room back and forth several times, tail swishing idly behind him, the slick floors gliding beneath his feet, and thought of what he had been told the day before. Today, a new student would be coming. Another one? Wunderbar! All the people he had met here so far had been wonderful, not one of them minding what le looked like, or the way he walked, or anything that even Kurt had always found himself resenting. So much better than in Germany. So far, life at this mansion had been amazing, and yet another student coming could only be a blessing. The sun shone into his room, and he felt the pleasant warmth on his face. He had prayed earlier already that he and the new student- the professor said her name was Kitty Pryde- would become great friends, he had straightened out random things at the mansion that no one else had as of yet bothered to straighten out, he had, feeling a little vain and eager to impress the new girl, put on a lightly different set of clothes from the ones he usually wore, and with only happy eagerness and slight anxiety, Kurt Wagner realized that he had nothing left to do… but wait.

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Downstairs, the brown haired girl known as Kitty Pryde passed through the front doors of a huge mansion to find herself in the middle of a circle of six grinning faces. One of them she knew; the professor Xavier. But the other five were new. Still, she couldn't help but smile back. The red haired one sauntered up to her, closing the short distance between them and offered her hand.

"Hi, I'm Jean." Kitty took the offered appendage.

"Kitty Pryde. What, um, what do you, like… do?" Kitty asked, hoping that Jean would take the hint. She did.

"Telepathy. And telekinesis." She emphasized her point by lifting Kitty's luggage up into the air and then placing it back down with a flick of the wrist, so to speak. Scott was next, and gave no demonstration, followed by Ororo Munroe, who simply summoned a small cloud to water a fern. The Wolverine was the last to introduce himself, but even he gruffly extended his claws for a brief moment, before retracting them when he felt Kitty had gotten a good look. After they had made sufficient small talk for about fifteen minutes, Kitty let out a wide smile.

"It's so nice to meet you all!" she squealed, beginning to look forwads to starting a year here. "Um… is that all of you?" Scott answered.

"No, but there's one more of us home. KURT!" he called.

… no response.

"KURT WAGNER!"

"What can he do?" Kitty asked, still curious about all that related to mutants. Jean answered this time.

"Kurt's a teleporter. So don't be surprised when you see some smoke that smells-" BAMF

"Guten tag, Kitty." She heard from behind her. She turned, ready to meet another person, expecting to see a young boy behind the smoke that- as Jean tried to warn her- smelled of brimstone, expecting another grinning face.

She received one. The problem was, that this smile had fangs. She saw the fangs and then took in the whole terrifying sight before her. There was, in the place of a young boy, a monstrous apparition. He-it-he wore a sinister combination of a red shirt and black shorts, which let her see large amounts of indigo blue fur. The fur coursed over a lean, fit body that stood on paw like legs, two toes looking eerily like cloven hooves, a body that housed hands with not nearly enough fingers, and large ones to boot. She saw the face of the thing before her: A fanged evil grin with unnatural pointed ears, hair that was a similar colour to the fur, and two golden orbs for eyes that stared down into the very contours of her soul. The sheepish position of the boy went unnoticed as a tail sashayed out from behind.

Kitty screamed. The analysis that she had conducted of Kurt had taken, to her, less than a second, and the scream made all of them, especially Kurt, jump a little in surprise. She stumbled back a few steps, hand to her mouth, eyes wide in horror and Kurt slumped his shoulders like a weight had been fallen on them. His hands went behind his back, caressing each other in a method of self-comfort, and his tail went limp, nearly touching the carpeted ground. Kitty looked around frantically. Didn't they see it?? Instead, she saw mixed looks of apprehension, surprise, annoyance, and one distinct look of hurt that cause the other looks ot turn to ones of pity.

"Kitty." said the professor. She looked over at him, still dumbfounded. "I think that you should apologize to Kurt." It clicked in her mind, the gears turning slowly. That- that thing- THAT was Kurt. Kurt Wagner, whom they had just all told her about, the joker, the optimist, the comedian.

And she was terrified of him.

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"Jean, Scott." Said Ororo Munroe carefully, knowing she would be relieving some of the tension. "I have a lesson booked with you both. Come along." The three of them left and the silence grew tender as the professor decided to break it. Not directly. And Kurt heard, in his mind:

Kurt, perhaps you could help Kitty unpack. Her room is the same one as Rogue's. Kurt looked over at him, the look of hurt still on his featured, and then nodded too quickly, as if trying to shake some of his pain off.

"Keety, vould you like me to help you unpack?" Her eyes widened at the prospect of being along with him, but a stern look from the professor told her that if she said no now, she would begin her life here with a less than great start. Yeah, she thought. Like it's so great already.

She smiled as best as she could at Kurt, which was only a tight lipped grimace-smile and then answered quietly.

"Sure, um, Kurt." Thanks. She phased the rest of her bags in, and was about to pick them up when she saw Kurt go towards them. In a gesture of chivalry that he barely had noticed, he picked up all of the luggage and walked, beckoning her to follow. She ascended the stairs slowly after him, watching the tail swish ahs swirl behind him as he carried her luggage with ease.

When they arrived at her room, Kurt asked if she needed help sorting out the boxes. She accepted before she knew what she was doing, and awkwardly, the two tore the tape off the boxes, the adhesive coming apart with a roar, and Kurt took it upon himself to make conversation.

"So, Keety, was do you think of zhe mansion so far?" his nervousness and emotions thickened his German accent, and he cursed inwardly.

"Um, it's fine." This answer did not satiate Kurt, as it was so dismissive. He tried again, pretending not to be hurt by her scream.

"And the people?"

"They're, um, cool."

It continued on like this for a long time, until Kurt stopped talking.

She screamed. He thought. She took one look at me and she screamed. Not at the teleport, no. At me. I didn't think mutants would be scared of other mutants. They said we would all be the same here… they said no one would scream…

When they were done unpacking, Kurt left Kitty's room, the tension breaking instantly as his feet were out the door. She barely mumbled a thank you and then he was gone.

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I should have known she would scream. I should have had her warned… No one expects something like me to greet them into their new home. He thought as he made his way to his bedroom from the bathroom. His feet padded at the floors almost silently, and he overheard Jean talking to Kitty as he passed. Instinct and curiosity made him listen in, and he stood outside the door, tuning his sensitive hearing up.

"I think you hurt his feelings." Jean said.

"Yeah, but he totally, like… scared me!"

"Kitty, you don't even know him You should try."

"I know."

"He's really very nice and-"

"I know, Jean. I'm sure he is… just… it's hard when he looks like such a…"

Kurt froze. Like a what?

"Like a what?" Jean asked.

"Like a demon!" Kurt raced back to his room, refusing to hear any more. He sat down on his bed, curling into himself. A demon. It had been a while since he had been called that. He thought that part of his life was over. Lying down, he pulled the cover over himself, and all the bad things he ever thought about himself, all the bad memories flooded back as he fell asleep.

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Four year old Kurti Wagner pulled at his mother's skirts. "Bitte, mama!" he begged. He wanted to come with her to the markets so badly.

"Du bist zu jung, Kurti." she replied. You are too young.

"Ich bin fast fünf!" he refuted. I am almost five! Giving in, Margali Szardos rolled her eyes, took her son by the hand and they made their way into the marketplace. She turned around and saw the little store she had been searching for and turned back to discover her son playing with the dirt on the ground.

"Bleibst du hier kurze Zeit." Stay here for a little while. Kurti obediently plantes himself on the ground, and began to use all five of his limbs to sculpt a castle out of the clay-like soil. He began to get the dirt in his fur, but he didn't care at the moment; he would wash it out later. With his hands and his feet, he brought the mounds of soil together and with his tail he smoothed out some of the edges until he had a roughly made cylinder.

Then he heard a gasp. He turned quickly, limbs still on the castle, and saw a little girl, roughly his age, with two blonde braids looking at him from a distance with wide eyes. He smiled at her, unsure of what else to do, and her eyes- Kurti didn't think it was possible- widened even more.

"Johann!" she called, not taking her eyes off Kurti. When there was no answer, she turned in what must have been Johann's direction and called him again. "JOHANN!" Puzzled, Kurti watched as a boy with also blonde hair approached. Johann must have been the girl's brother.

"Was?" he asked.

"Schauen Sie Dort!" the girl replied. Look there! He turned in Kurti's direction and gasped.

"Ein Dämon." Kurti's blood froze and he went cold. He stood, golden eyes wide and looked around. Where was the demon? He should help fight it. They should get help. He turned back to the other kids' maybe he had been looking off in the wrong direction, but they still stared at him. Now there were moce. Another girl and four more boys.

"Was sollten wir tun?" one of the boys asked. What should we do? Kurti still could not see the demon but began slowly moving closer to the group of children.

"Ergreifen Sie einige Felsen." Grab some rocks. Kurti looked around himself, the castle forgotten, but there were no rocks in his vicinity.

He moved towards the children, about to ask them if he could help, if he could also have a rock (or stick, as some of the boys had) to fight with, when he felt a blow to his face. He fell down, looking at the boys in shock and confusion, Tears of pain welled up in the child's eyes. Why don't they go fight the demon? He thought. And as he began to pull himself up, the children pounced. He felt pain everywhere, and blood began to tangle in his fur. He closed his eyes, for fear of being hit in them, and was frozen with shock.

"Damon!"

"Ungeheuer!"

"Missbildung!"

"Verlassen Sie viese stadt!"

Demon, they shouted. Monster, freak. Leave this town. Kurti cried out at the pain when one of them decided to attack his tail and tears mingled with blood. Then it dawned on him. They thought he was the demon.

"Was? Ich bin nicht ein Dämon!" he shouted. Didn't they see he wasn't a demon? Didn't they see?

When a few adults ran over, parents of the children, one man patted his son on the head.

"Guter Job, Sohn. Aber lassen Sie mich jetzt es töten." Good job, son. Not let me kill it. The children dispersed, leaving Kurti to stare through tear-muddled ees at a man with a dagger raised above his head. He curled into a protective ball.

"Jetzt ist die Zeit für Sie, um, Dämon zu sterben!" Now is the time for you to die, Demon!

"NEIN! Ich bin nicht ein Dämon!" Kurti wailed as the dagger plunged down, and he rolled away from it, receiving a slight nick on his side. As it was raised again, he heard his mother's voice, the voice of an angel.

"Halten Sie in diesem Augenblick an! Sind Sie verrücken Leute?" Stop right now! Are you people crazy? Kurti looked up at his mother, and tried to limp to her, as the children had gotten to his legs. She picked his up and indignantly began to walk away. He buried his face in her hair and sobbing, said to her:

"Sie dachten, dass ich ein Dämon war." he said, clarifying and staring at the faces of the people as his mother carried him away. They though I was a demon. She hugged him tighter and then looked him in his eyes.

"Kurti, hörst du mir, zu. Du bist nicht ein Dämon. Verstehst du?" Listen to me. You are not a demon. Understand?

"Ich bin nicht ein Dämon." He repeated, sniffling.

"Denken Sie nie, dass du bist." Never think that you are. He hugged her tighter then, still throbbing with pain.

"Ich bin nicht ein Dämon." He kept repeating to himself, a phrase, though he didn't know it at the time, he would become very familiar with in his life. I am not a demon. The thing was though, that before that day, Kurti Wagner had never thought that he was.

"Ich bin nicht ein Dämon." he whispered, waking up. He had not thought about that day in years, let alone had that nightmare. Knowing that he would now never be able to go back to sleep, Kurt Wagner sighed and thought, with a morbid relief, that it was a good thing he had dreamt about that day.

There were many worse days that could have been dreamt about.