A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this. It's not up my alley, but I wanted to try it out. I'm also looking for a beta/partner that will help me with this, so if you're interested just drop a note in your review! :D

Disclaimer: Clearly I do not own Torchwood, if I did Ianto would still be with us and Gwen wouldn't have existed. If she did, however, she would have been the first to go. And also Owen and Tosh wouldn't have died either. Just saying. So yes, don't sue me please, I'm moneyless. XS

Prologue

"Witch!"

Screams of the accursed word reached even the heavens as they showered the poor unsuspecting boy with the term. Backing into a corner the young lad of nineteen cowered at the accusing eyes that lay on him, promises of his death to come spewing from the lips of those he had known for years as they approached him with malice intent.

"I'm not a witch, I swear." The raven haired boy cried as his blue eyes became glossy with tears as he knew he would soon face death as so many had these days.

He tried with all his might to fight off the offending hands that gripped him and dragged him towards the gallows but to no avail. He saw his mother at the back of the crowed, tears falling from her eyes that matched his own. She looked away when he cried out to her unable to face the boy that was her son, ignoring his please for help as she walked off. The boy felt his heart break for the first and last time at the betrayal of his only family, of the only woman in his life that was supposed to care for him more than she cared for herself.

Fighting spirit gone he let himself be lead to the wooden planks built to be the gallows. Lowering his head he inwardly cringed at the feel of the noose placed over his head and put snug around his neck. He swallowed back another sob and willed away his tears as he sniffled. With all his remaining courage he lifted his head to watch as his murderers watched on, the words of God being spoken by the few that would let him drop.

No sooner they placed a black cloth over his head to hide his face from view did the board beneath his feet drop, forcing him to fall to his death. He hung there chocking, struggling to free himself again but failing as his hands were tied behind his back. The rope around his neck continuously tightened until his windpipe was crushed entirely, darkness claimed him moments after.

The burial of the damned took place later that day with many others that were executed for their witchcraft. Even if in league with the Devil the people believed that they deserved a grave and a rightful burial, and so they would get one.

Blue eyes snapped open as he gasped back to life. Panic overtook him at the utter darkness that swallowed him. Was he in hell? He reached upwards only to come in contact with a wall of wood. No, this was not hell, if it were he would be in the inferno's that burned for eternity. But if not hell, then what? He remembered dying and as he did he reached for his neck, baffled when he felt the smoothness of it rather than the burns of ropes that he knew should be there.

"I'm alive." He breathed not knowing if relief should be what he felt at that instance, or horror. Was he really in league with Satan? Disregarding that train of thought he went about planning his next course of action to free himself from what he deducted to be his own grave.

Taking in a deep breath he kicked at the old wooden box that he was trapped in with all his might. It cracked open and so he continued, fear gripping him when an onslaught of dirt came raging in to smoother him. Hastily he clawed up through the still fresh soil till his hand finally met cool air. Forcing himself up his head broke free with another gasp, fresh air filling his lungs. Looking up he was met with the dark of night, the full moon hanging over the land like an eerie eye accusing him of his evil doings, claiming that he should be dead with the others.

"Well well," a voice said cheerfully from behind him. Twisting the boy looked on with wide fearful eyes as a dark silhouette stood against a box, his own body still half claimed by dirt. Stepping out from the shadows of the tree he was met with a man in black clothes and instantly thought of the devil.

"Are you Satan?" He asked, confused when the man barked out a laugh.

"Am I Satan? Of course not, I'm the Doctor and you, Jones, Ianto Jones, are quite an impossible thing."