Blankness.

Struggle.

It drifted through the nothingness, constantly vying with the others like it for a space on the outer fringes, jostling to be in position when the next chance came.

And come it did. Suddenly it was appearing not too far off, as much as such terms could be said to apply there.

Light.

Substance.

Opportunity.

~free~

~back!~

~mineminemine~

~no! mine!~

~want~

Desperately, it ignored the voices of the others, expending what little energy it could be said to possess in an attempt to reach the slowly-opening portal first.

It succeeded, and realised it had no idea what to do next. Success was a goal in itself, un-planned-for. Lost, it drifted again, within the confines of its new boundaries.

And then the images came. Pieces of its new host's past, flashing before it. It once more struggled, this time to make sense of unfamiliar concepts, within its heretofore limited mind.

It began to adjust, learning to process those images, to assign meaning to them, already adapting to its new existence.

Into its mind floated rumours it had heard, whisperings from its own past, murmurings in that mostly-silent emptiness that had been its reality. Whisperings of those who had been among the lucky few, who had, like it, escaped, who had resisted this barrage of emotions, of memories, refused to adopt any aspects of their hosts. Who had soon found themselves returned to the void, once again locked in the struggle for freedom, for existence.

But it was smarter than they. It knew, with the absolute certainty of instinct, that it had a limited time in which to incorporate enough of its host's self to enable it to survive, and so it began sifting through the memories, hunting for anything it could use.

Rejected were the desire for acceptance, the thirst for knowledge; they would make it weak, subject to forces outside its control.

Deciding what it wanted to keep took longer, scenes constantly flashing before it, leaving little opportunity to analyse their meaning before they were gone again, replaced with something new, something of potentially equal importance. Schoolroom images, praise from instructors; these were a repeated theme; it quickly snapped them up, sensing somehow that this host's intelligence and quick mind would help it to survive. And it wanted to survive. Returning to that barrenness was not an option it liked. Scenes of rejection, dejection, rebuffed affections: sensitivity; ability to feel, to empathise, perhaps useful for identifying with enemies or prey, predicting their next move. Memories of childhood, a strong bond with a maternal figure: loyalty, a wish to cling to those who offer protection.

But there, towards the end of the stream of memories, the end of this life whose taking had granted it release from Before, it found a clear expression of a thread that ran throughout this host's life, the quality that spoke to it most strongly, most clearly. Repressed rage, burning away deep inside at others' constraints, others' ideas of what constituted worth, others' thoughts on who one ought to be, how one ought to think. As the walls between their worlds dissolved enough for it to cross through, the host had shared its sense of relief and joy at being freed at last. And that was what it would use as the center of its new life, its combined personality.

Having integrated those aspects of its host it had chosen to retain, the demon opened its new eyes, and the man known as William was reborn.