Sleeping Wake/Waking Sleep

“Those who have compared our life to a dream were right... we were sleeping wake, and waking sleep.” - Michel de Montaigne

There were many things in Johanna Constantine's life that she could consider strange, but running into what was essentially the God of Dreams and having him almost owe her a favor was right at the top of the list. She had no idea how she was supposed to deal with this now, but here she was, having to exist in this world, and Johanna had to just continue on her way. The Lord of Dreams, or Lord Morpheus, had promised her that the memory of failing Astra wouldn't haunt her at night anymore. The sun was just starting to come up the first time Johanna laid down after that exchange, and she didn't dream of Astra; she didn't dream at all.

At first, it was the closest to Heaven that she had ever felt. If this is what peace was, Johanna could see why people would risk everything they had to gain it because it was lovely. She woke up not precisely feeling rested, but the memory of Asta's hand in hers was not lingering like a phantom ache. It improved everything around her, and Johanna thought she could start drinking a little less. It was as simple as taking away that one nightmare to solve most of her problems. Maybe it was that easy when it came to fixing her. That was slightly insulting, but Johanna was too busy sleeping to care.

However, something began to form under her skin like an infection. At first, Johanna thought it was just her body getting used to having a whole night of sleep again, but after days of sleeping without nightmares, nothing came from it. The thing under her skin felt almost growing, and Johanna could take a knife to cut it out. She ignored it; if there was anything Johanna Constantine could do, it was overlook a problem and keep her ear to the ground. There was a dream that the world around her went insane with telling the truth, the only dream she had, but when Johanna woke up, everything was fine. The more people she talked to, the more people had some variation of that exact dream.

It seemed that Morpheus was up to something, but she didn't know what, and she wasn't sure if they were on speaking terms that she could just ask. Johanna didn't see any other fallout from the dream, and everyone seemed all right. The next thing that caught her eye was the convention in America that turned out to be a literal serial killer convention. Serial murderers walked out into the world to either confess their worst sins or take their very lives. She was on a plane that night when a friend called her out. Johanna knew this was linked to the supernatural somehow, but she didn't know what. Once again, she didn't dream, and the thing beneath her skin continued to grow.

For days, Johanna had to speak to serial killers as she tried to come up with some sort of explanation for why they would suddenly confess like this. She looked for any kind of throughline that made sense, but there didn't seem to be one. The only thing these people had in common was a rather terrible "hobby," they all decided that confessing at the same time was the best way to go about things. It would be an understatement to say it was surreal, and Johanna stared down demons regularly.

"So what are your thoughts?" the detective, someone Ric knew, asked. Johanna didn't know his name and didn't bother to remember. She was too worried about the fact that she had heard the truth from these serial killers for days, and yet she didn't have a single nightmare about it. Nothing was haunting her dreams, and Johanna was beginning to realize that the lack of haunting might be the problem.

"It's not demonic; they aren't cursed, or under any sort of magic I can see, but it's not normal. There isn't an explanation; it's just something that happened," Johanna replied. The detective swore loudly, and Johanna wanted a smoke or a drink. "Do you need me anymore, or can I take the next plane home?"

"I've already broken every protocol possible to let you talk to the killers; I might as well let you look at some of the footage. Maybe you can see something I can't," the detective replied. Johanna shrugged and made her way to the closest bar. The booze was terrible, and the next man who tried to pick her up would regret it, but at least the whiskey numbed everything. She was drunk when she got back to her room, and Johanna fell back on the bed.

Johanna always looked at her life as Before Astra and After Astra because what happened to Astra was such a key event. It was the thing that defined nearly everything she did now. It was the reason that she did what she did. Could the feeling beneath her skin be something related to Astra? Did losing the nightmare almost feel like losing purpose? Johanna couldn't be sure, but there had to be another way of keeping her sense of purpose without needing to relive that nightmare. There had to be a way to sleep at night and not let this guilt eat her alive.

Johanna didn't dream again and didn't hide that she was hungover from the detective the following day. He looked at her with something like pity, and she almost lashed out. How dare someone like that think she is pitiful; then Johanna caught a look at herself in the glass of a window. She had seen her fair share of corpses and looked pretty close to one. While the detective might look at her with pity, he decided not to say anything about it. He left her with some of the footage from the convention, and she settled down to watch.

It was strange how unassuming all of these people were. They all looked like someone you would pass on the street and not even glance at, yet they were as bad as the demons Johanna often found herself sending to hell. Everything looked like it was going fine until the time skip the detective talked about. One moment, a speaker was giving a talk, and the next, he was gone. From there, everyone stood up, walked out of the room like they had heard, and saw something that told them it was time to confess. Johanna switched to the hotel door and watched as they all walked out of the building when someone familiar caught her eye.

When it came to serial killers, Johanna had a pretty broad definition, and she thought there were plenty of creatures she dealt with that would count. What she didn't think counted was the Morpheus strolling out of the convention like he didn't have a care in the world. He just watched as the people walked out, some confessing and others ending their lives. Johanna switched to the parking lot camera, but the Morpheus was nowhere to be seen. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, and with him, Johanna was left with more questions than answers.

When the detective came in to talk to her, Johanna lied through her teeth and told him that she didn't see anything in the footage they should look into. Somehow, saying that actual Sandman was there didn't seem like it was going to be helpful. Instead, she packed her bags and immediately made her way to London. As she waited for flights and crossed the pond, Johanna poured over every resource she could find. There was truth in myth; that had to be the case, so she looked to myth and any other resource. There wasn't much that she could glean about what could have made the Sandman make an entire group of serial killers go out into the world.

She let herself get caught up in the research and everything else that she could find on him. Johanna had to admit that there were times when she would get a little obsessed with things, but this seemed to be taking it to another level. She still couldn't dream about Astra; every night she didn't, it felt like a piece of her was being chipped away. Without the memory of Astra in her mind every night, reminding her of the things that needed to atone for and what she needed to find a way to fix, Johanna could feel her very sense of purpose slipping through her fingers like the very sand that killed Rachel.

Rachel and her peaceful death was another favor she had asked of the Sandman, so maybe he didn't owe her a favor after all. Perhaps she was the one who was in debt to him, which turned her stomach a little bit. The idea of a god having some sort of hold over her was nauseating, to say the least. Or that was the all-liquid diet that Johanna was currently on because she couldn't stop reading, and now it was time to stop sleeping. If she failed to dream about Astra, then that was one more day that she held onto that purpose. Or something like that; Johanna was nearing three days awake and honestly didn't even know if she was making sense in her head anymore.

"You have to sleep," Ric told her a day ago when she discovered that Johanna was refusing to sleep. "If you don't sleep, you'll go mad or die. Johanna, you have to sleep; whatever haunts you at night is just a dream. It isn't real, and it can't hurt you." Johanna had almost laughed in Ric's face at that statement but decided that explaining why she was laughing would make her look even madder than she already did.

Johanna blinked, and for half a moment, she thought she had fallen asleep because Morpheus had apparently decided just to let himself into her flat. She stared at him and blinked several times, ironically rubbing the grit from her eyes, but he was still there. He looked a little better than the last time she saw him; there was something shrunken about the last time she had seen him, and while he spoke of power, he carried himself like someone afraid. Everything about him just looked a little more steady, but she supposed that time would heal most wounds when it came to eternal beings.

"Johanna Constantine," he said, and his voice seemed like it was coming from every corner of the room. She would have thought this was a dream if her eyes weren't hurting so much from the lack of sleep. "I haven't seen you for several days in my realm."

"Your realm?" she asked. "I haven't dreamed since I saw you." Once the words left her lips, she couldn't stop them from flowing forward like a flood. "You took away the memory, but you took away all my dreams. I don't have any, and now I don't have any purpose. I need to see that memory because it reminds me of my purpose. It reminds me why I do what I do and why I keep going. If I don't have that memory, then I don't have a purpose, and if I don't have a purpose--" Johanna cut herself off because she didn't want to say anything else. She didn't want to admit that she didn't feel like there was much point to her aside from fixing what happened to Astra.

"I apologize," Morpheus said softly, and her head snapped up to look at him. "I thought it would help you not to see that memory anymore because it seemed to haunt you so much. You have dreamed, Constantine; you just haven't remembered any of them because I wanted you to only remember the good dreams for a time. You had seen enough nightmares, so I wanted to give you a respite from them."

"You're saying that I haven't remembered any of my dreams because none of them have been good?" Johanna asked, and Morpheus nodded. "Why haven't you just given me a good dream? Isn't that what you do?"

"I help craft what you create," he explained. "However, I can be more direct if need be. There is an issue with that which you might not find as enjoyable."

"And what exactly is that?" she asked.

"I have to be there; some would likely find that invasive," Morpheus replied. Johanna stared and thought about that. There was likely little that could happen in a dream that would offend a being that has been around as long as he had. He had seen the worst of humanity; he had experienced some of it in that basement, which she only had the bare details of from her research, so anything he could see from her dreams wouldn't make him judge her. Perhaps it was the madness settling in from not sleeping, but Johanna stood a little taller and stared down at the Lord of Dreams.

"If you're going to spend so much time in my dreams, Lord Morpheus, what should I call you? Lord Morpheus?" she asked. Something in his dark eyes glittered like stars in the night sky.

"You may call me Morpheus if you wish, Constantine, but you may also call me Dream," he replied.

"Then you'll call me Johanna," she said, and it was like meeting again for the first time.

+++

It shouldn't have surprised her that Dream insisted that she go to sleep immediately because she had been awake for several days, but Johanna also couldn't go to bed without washing some of the dirt from the last couple of days off of her skin first. For half a moment, she thought she would have to argue with him, but Dream stood back and let her do what she needed to do. He lurked in her living room like a shadow in the dark, but it didn't feel like a shadow that was threatening. It was dangerous that she could feel, but it wasn't a threat to her.

The shower felt divine, and the sheer force of will kept Johanna from falling asleep under the arm spray. The idea of being carried naked and wet to her bed by Dream was not exactly something that she wanted to think about right before he was about to help craft some good dreams for her. Johanna usually slept naked or in whatever clothing she had fallen asleep in, but she had a large t-shirt she stole from an ex that covered enough. She walked out of the bathroom and keenly noticed that Dream was looking at her. He wordlessly followed her into her room.

"So what happens now?" Johanna asked as she climbed into bed.

"You sleep, and I help you craft a dream," Dream replied like it was that simple.

"And what happens to you that is in this world?"

"There is no me of this world and me of the Dreaming; there is only me. When I enter the dreaming with you, I will no longer be in this world," he explained, and all of this made sense to her. Maybe it was the delirium talking, but her brain latched onto one thing for some reason, and her brain-to-mouth filter wasn't working at full capacity.

"Does that mean you'll be gone when I wake up?" she asked. If Dream answered her in the real world, Johanna didn't hear him because she was too busy finally getting some sleep.

+++

Johanna had always been a reasonably lucid dreamer, so it wasn't surprising when she became aware that she was wandering the streets of London on a rare day when the sun was high in the sky, and it was just cool enough that she could justify a coat. One moment, she was walking alone, and the next, Dream was walking in step next to her. He looked a little different here than he did in the real world. If she thought he looked more sure of himself in the real world, that was nothing compared to how he looked in a dream. This Dream seemed to carry him like the King the lore often called him. He was dressed more or less the same, but his coat was long and nearly reached the floor. Johanna swore she could see the night sky in its lining if she looked too closely, but maybe that was just a trick of the light.

"So my idea of a good dream is walking through London on a nice day?" Johanna asked.

"Did you expect it to be more complex than that?" Dream asked, and she shrugged. "I think you overestimate how simple peace can be for some people. If this is peace for you right now, Johanna, it is a good dream, and we are accomplishing what we want."

"You were stopping the memory of Astra," she said as they turned into Victoria Park, which was basically empty. It would never look like this if the weather were this nice in the real world. "Does that mean you were stopping other bad dreams?" He hummed in agreement, and she thought about seeing him at the hotel when the serial killers walked out to confess what they had done. "Were you in America recently?" Dream might be an otherworldly being, but he was not impossible to read, and she saw the microexpressions fall across his face. By wordless agreement, they found an empty bench and sat down.

"Yes, a rogue nightmare of mine was there, and there was another issue that needed to be dealt with, but everything is right now," Dream replied.

"'Everything is right,' he says," Johanna was wondering if confronting him in his realm was the right move, but she didn't think she had the power to contain him in the real world either. So either way, if he were going to lash out for this, at least here, it would be painless if she died in her sleep. "So everything is right now that all those serial killers have confessed what they did?"

"They needed to be punished," Dream replied like it was that simple.

"And you were the one to punish them? You were the one who decided who lived and who died?" Johanna asked, and her voice was rising a little.

"I did not tell anyone to harm themselves; I simply told them to become aware of how craven they were and how much pain they had caused. What they did with that was none of my concern," Dream said, and he turned to look at her. Once again, his eyes looked black like a galaxy, and it felt like he was seeing into everything of her. This was her dream, and she was barring so much of herself to get this. "You judge me for this."

"Perhaps you should have worded it so they would turn themselves in, not take the coward's way out. There is no justice in any of them taking their own lives, not for the people they had hurt and not for the families," Johanna explained. She reminded herself that this man sitting in front of her was not a man and not someone who likely understood everything about the human way of life. She remembered him telling her how odd it was that humans were so attached to objects when he was looking for the sand.

"I will take that under advisement," Dream replied, which wasn't an answer one way or another, but she didn't think that she could convince an all-seeing being that due process was the way to get justice in the human world. Johanna looked out into the fields and thought about Rachel. She hadn't thought about her in a long time, but the guilt that Rachel was dead because of what Johanna did sat like a shard of glass under her skin. "She dreamed of you," Dream said suddenly, and Johanna nearly jumped.

"What did you say?" she whispered.

"In her final moments, Rachel dreamed of you and a happy time with you. That was the good dream I gave her when she passed peacefully," Dream replied. For some reason, that felt too personal. She shouldn't know what Rachel dreamed about before she died, and Rachel's last thought certainly shouldn't have been about her. She shouldn't have been the thing to bring Rachel peace in her final moments. Johanna felt her blood run cold, and she clenched her fists.

"I want to wake up now," she stated harshly. Dream didn't say another word to her; she didn't even see him move in her peripheral vision, and the last thing from the dream that Johanna remembered was the sun on her skin and the breeze in her hair.

+++

Johanna opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her flat. The sun was coming in through her windows, and it looked like it would be a nice day. For half a moment, she wondered if she was still dreaming, but the smell of her flat that desperately needed to be cleaned was enough of a reminder that this was real. When she looked around the room, she was alone, and the only evidence that Dream had ever been there was some fine grains of sand left on the floor. She swept them up and almost threw them away. Instead, Johanna put the grains into a small jar and added them to her collection. It would make for a good story if nothing else.

She felt better but was still extremely tired when she finally slept. Johanna cracked her back, stripped off all her clothes, and climbed into bed. There wasn't anyone in her room this time, so she didn't need to hide anything from anyone. This time, it was Astra, only she swore she saw a black figure lurking in the club's shadows as she walked through, trying to find Astra. The nightmare jolted her from sleep in the middle of the night, and Johanna looked around. There wasn't anyone in her room, not even the sand on the ground, but she didn't sleep for the rest of the night. It was, strangely, exactly what she needed.

For the rest of the week, Johanna would occasionally have a good dream, and out of the corner of her eye, she would see Dream lurking in a corner. However, when she turned to see him there, he was gone. He was here, helping craft these dreams, but he wasn't interacting with her and didn't seem keen to change that. If there was ever anything an immortal being would eventually win, it was a stalemate, and Johnna knew that time was quite literally not on her side. It was another good dream when she stopped and waited.

"I know you're out there, so you can stop lurking and come out again. I promise I don't bite," Johanna said. The crowds before her seemed to part as Dream walked toward her. She was suddenly reminded that she was in a dream with an extremely striking-looking man, a man who seemed clued into any fantasies or daydreams she might have while in this dream, so she pushed those thoughts from her head and forced herself not to think about it.

"I was just respecting your wishes," Dream said as he joined her.

"It felt invasive to know what she thought about when she died," Johanna said softly, and he hummed.

"I suppose I don't think of it that way, but I suppose I can see that point of view," Dream replied, which was about as close to an apology or an acknowledgment that he misstepped in any way. They began to make their way through the dream some more. This time, she was sure they were in a tiny village that didn't even look like it was real. The people around her were ignoring her and Dream like they were ghosts, and she was just a visitor peaking in on their their day-to-day lives. "Why do you need the nightmare, Johanna?"

Johanna sucked in a breath and tried to steady her pounding heart. Her first instinct was to tell him to fuck off and that it was none of his fucking business. It was on the tip of her tongue to the point she nearly watched Dream retreat into himself as he had already heard her tell him to fuck off. So she pushed her shoulders back a little and stood a little taller. "Self-flagellation, I suppose," she replied. "Entirely selfish reasons at the end of the day. I want to find a way to help get Astra back, somehow, and that is why I do what I do: so I can find a way to bring her back. I was too confident that night; I should have found help or spoken faster. I should have found a way to get her out of there. I should have held on tighter, but I didn't, and now I need that reminder so I never forget what I'm fighting for. So I never forget why I keep getting up when it's so bloody hard."

The silence that followed was deafening, and she wondered if Dream would leave because this wasn't anything he wanted to hear. Instead, he frowned deeply and glanced at her. "I had a son a long time ago. I lost him, which was the source of my anger and resentment for a long time. It still is, in many ways. I cannot fully understand why you feel the need to hold onto this memory, but pain and loss are things I have experienced." Johanna wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that, so she didn't say anything at all. Eventually, the dream ended, and she woke up feeling rested.

+++

Another week went by, and Dream was absent from her dreams and nightmares, but she still remembered all of them. Johanna wasn't sure if that meant he was somewhere hidden or if something had shifted, and she didn't need him to be around to remember her dreams again. If it was the latter, she wasn't so proud to admit that she would miss the talks they had in her dreams. She looked up more information about who could be Dream's lost child in myth or legend because she assumed people would write about this. It took her to Orpheus. The pain he spoke of made more sense to her now.

After sending a demon back to hell and a very long trek across the city, Johanna realized that the Sandman was waiting outside her building and his bird, Matthew, was waiting with him. She hadn't seen him in the real world since he had helped her sleep the first night.

"Matthew, good to see you again. Are you keeping an eye on him as I told you to?" she asked.

"When he lets me," Matthew replied, and the way Dream looked a little chastized was amusing, to say the least. Dream waved his hand, and Matthew took to the skies. It was like the shadows themselves took Matthew out of this world.

"Shall we?" Johanna asked because it didn't seem likely that Dream would tell her why he was here outside in public. He wordlessly followed her to her place, and one of the neighbors looked a little alarmed by the tall shadow following Johanna around. She didn't know how to reassure someone that, yes, this shadow was dangerous, but he probably wasn't here to hurt me, so don't worry about it, so she didn't bother. Instead, Johanna opened the door and let Dream into her space again. "So, why are you here? Why not come to me during the dreams tonight?"

"I wanted to ask you something, and it felt fair that I ask you here instead of in the Dreaming," he replied. He paused, and she gestured for him to continue. "Would you like to see the Dreaming?"

"Don't I see it every night?" Johanna asked.

"No, those are your dreams; I want to show the Dreaming. I want to show you my realm," Dream replied. Something about this felt monumental, and she could tell that Dream was a little uncomfortable with asking her this. She wondered how many people got to see the Dreaming the way he saw it. She wondered how long it had been since he asked and how long it had been since someone said 'yes.'

"Am I going to forget everything in the morning because I'm not meant to see it?" Johanna asked because she wasn't sure she wanted to experience something she wouldn't even remember in the morning.

"No, of course not," Dream said.

"Then I would love to see the Dreaming," Johanna said. There was the whisper of the smile on his lips, and it made something twist in her stomach. He left her alone so she could get ready without prying eyes and followed her into the room. Johanna didn't know how to bring up the one change she had made to the room since the first time Dream had been there. Now, along the wall, a small armchair was facing the bed. He looked slightly confounded by the chair but wordlessly sat down and didn't ask her about it. Somehow, him sitting in the chair and watching while she climbed into bed was more intense than him standing behind her while she crawled into bed. The oversized t-shirt didn't feel like it was covering enough.

"Is there anything special we need to do to make this work?" she asked, but Dream shook his head. "So I'll sleep, and you'll be there with me just like always? And you'll be gone when I wake up?"

"Yes, Johanna," Dream replied. There was a moment of silence, and neither of them said anything. He just watched her with those dark eyes, and she watched him right back. However, Johanna was still aware that being stubborn would not win against someone who had all the time in the world. So she settled down, closed her eyes, and let the exhaustion from a long day pull her under to sleep.

It was a beach she was standing on, and Johanna could feel how different this dream was from all the other dreams she had been experiencing for the last couple of weeks. Her dreams before meeting Dream felt one way, and her dreams after meeting him felt another, but this nearly set her teeth on edge. Johanna couldn't remember the last time she felt this vulnerable and exposed, which wasn't a pleasant feeling. She thought about panicking, screaming, throwing up a cross, and trying to exorcise whatever was here that felt so dangerous when there was movement behind her. Johanna turned around, her fists clenched so tight she swore it hurt, and Dream stood before her. He looked a little puzzled to see her so on edge.

"Johanna, did you forget that we agreed I would take you into the Dreaming tonight?" he asked. He sounded a little condescending, which made her even more on edge, but lashing out when it felt like this world could swallow her whole was not wise.

"I didn't forget," Johanna snapped, "but I wasn't expecting a place that feels like I'm staring into the depths of hell again. How can you possibly exist here?" He blinked slowly like he was processing what she had just said. She wasn't expecting a reply to that question because it was obvious that this was where Dream was most comfortable. She could see that in the way he was standing before her. Instead, he wordlessly offered her a hand. Johanna looked at it like she couldn't trust whatever he was offering, but it seemed that Dream would let those actions speak for himself and did not explain himself. He just stood there with his hand outstretched and waited. "I want you to know I find it fucking annoying that I always know you can outlast me simply because you have time on your side. It makes it very hard to argue with you."

"I've not argued or conversed with many mortals for an extended amount of time, so I never considered that aspect of our conversations," Dream replied, and he still didn't pull his hand back. He still fucking waited for her to take it, and Johanna knew that being stubborn wasn't going to get her anywhere. If we wanted to see the world he was offering to show her, it was clear that this was the path forward. Johanna reached forward and took Dream's hand.

Considering his pale appearance, she expected him to be ice cold, but he wasn't. Dream wasn't warm either; it was like he just existed and didn't give off a temperature. That did add up, considering they were in the Dreaming, and he was the King here. He didn't grasp her fingers tightly or anything like that; he simply took her hand daintily like he would be helping her across a large puddle so she didn't ruin her shoes. The world around her felt a little safer, and Johanna felt her heart start slowing down. Dream watched her carefully as if he was still waiting for something, and she realized it was her. He was waiting for her to tell him that she was ready to move on, and he'd probably wait until this dream was over if she wanted him to.

"You call yourself the King of Dreams, so let's see that kingdom," Johanna said. Dream nodded at her, and they began walking away from the beach she found herself on.

+++

Johanna knew she was barely seeing an inch of what Dream called a kingdom, but the palace was something out of this world. She looked up at the night sky in the ceiling and almost didn't feel his hand in hers. He hadn't released it since they walked away from the beach, and she didn't know what she thought about that. Johanna made fun of the throne just a little, but Dream seemed to take it in stride enough that he didn't immediately end the dream and kick her awake. Instead, he looked a little amused by her and guided her to a library where a woman in a fantastic pantsuit greeted them.

"Johanna, this is Lucienne, my chief librarian and the keeper of this place," Dream introduced. Lucienne looked down at their hands, and Johanna wanted to pull away, but something made her stay. She still wasn't sure if any of this could be trusted, and now wasn't the time to find out.

"Nice to meet you, Johanna Constantine," Johanna said, and Lucienne smiled knowingly.

"I know who you are," she said, "I've seen your stories here." Lucienne gestured to the vastness of the library. When Matthew appeared, Johanna was about to ask if that meant that both Dream and Lucienne knew her future.

"Oh hey boss, you brought her, that's good," Matthew said. "Pretty wild-looking place, isn't it?"

"That is certainly a word I would use," Johanna replied. Dream gently guided her away from Lucienne and Matthew, who, from what little she could hear, appeared to be talking business that she didn't really understand, and they began to walk through the books. Countless names were written on them, and her fingers itched to look at one of them. However, Johanna felt that this was not something she should do.

"I believe it is time for you to wake up, Johanna," Dream said, and her fingers twitched around his for the first time since this little adventure started.

"And you'll be gone when I wake up," she stated. Dream stopped and seemed to hesitate for a moment. Johanna wondered if she had somehow misstepped and done something that would doom her to endless nightmares for the rest of her life.

"Do you want me to be?" Dream replied. She studied him among these endless books in a realm he created around her. His hair was maddening, and his cheekbones looked like they could cut glass, but it was his eyes that she often felt like she was getting lost in. Johanna wondered if this was what damnation felt like, and maybe she understood why so many people willingly walked into its embrace.

"I do, but I only want you there if you want to be," Johanna replied. They hadn't touched on the fact that he was the devil in Rodrick's basement, but she could only imagine what being locked up did. She could only imagine that not many people asked him when it came to what he wanted. He was a King, a being here to serve humanity, so it seemed unlikely that anyone ever asked what his choice in this would be. There was a look of surprise on his face when Johanna said that she only wanted him there if he wanted to be there.

"Perhaps another night," Dream said carefully. He walked closer to her, and Johanna took a step back until her back was pressed against the large bookshelves, his hand still in hers. He loomed over her, and despite it all, she didn't think he would hurt her. Dream used the hand that wasn't holding hers to tuck her hair behind her ear, and Johanna swore she stopped breathing when he leaned in close enough that she could feel his lips against her ear and his soft breath against her skin. "This dream is over, Johanna," Dream whispered, "for now."

+++

Johanna gasped away like she hadn't taken a breath for many hours. She was drenched in a light sheen of sweat, and the room felt too warm and the air too thick. Johanna had also soaked through her underwear like she was a teenager, and if she weren't so painfully close to the edge, she would have been embarrassed. Of course, a dream spent with Dream made her physically react like it was a sex dream. Johanna slipped her hand between her legs and moaned at how good just a little touch felt; she truly was already so close to coming that it was a little pathetic.

That didn't mean Johanna wasn't a glutton for punishment in all aspects of her life. It was early morning, and the rain was pouring outside. She didn't have another job lined up. So Johanna had time to tease herself, get right up to the edge, and then stop just as she was about to come. Johanna wondered if Dream could sense daydreams as well because she was thinking about him; she was thinking about his slim fingers between her legs, his lithe body over hers, his lips on hers, getting her fingers into his hair and holding on as tight as she could. Johanna bit her lip and didn't even try to stop her orgasm this time; she let it take her over to the edge, and she cried out loud enough that if her neighbors weren't already used to her antics, they probably would have made a noise complaint.

"If you do see daydreams, it would be rude to sneak a peak," Johanna whispered like Dream was in the room or could somehow hear her. She felt relaxed, unbelievably good, and she couldn't remember the last time she came that hard from her own hand and her imagination alone. Johanna let herself bask in the afterglow for a little longer until the wetness between her legs demanded her attention, and she needed to change the sheets. She wasn't sure when it was happening, but it seemed like she might be having company soon, and she was a lady, after all.

After a hot shower, a quick round of laundry for her only set of bed sheets, and carefully collecting the few grains of sand left on the floor, Johanna settled down and wondered what aspect of Dream's life she wanted to research now. He had to know that she was looking into him, understanding all of this was quite literally her job, but now it almost felt invasive. Johanna wondered if she had asked him about his time away and if he would just tell her. It seemed like the wrong time, and she pushed the thought from her mind. Instead, she tracked down her ancestor's diaries, who was obsessed with the man who had to be Dream, if the sand in the story was anything to go by, and another man who didn't seem to age. Johanna ran her fingers over the yellowed paper and the rather rough-looking sketch of the two men and wondered who the other man was. She also wondered if Dream would tell her if she asked that question.

Dream didn't come to her that night, and she had just an ordinary dream that didn't have any impact one way or another. Then he didn't come the second night, and Johanna kept an eye out in her dreams to see if he was lurking nearby and wasn't coming near her, but she didn't see him. However, she was reasonably sure Matthew occasionally flew around in the waking world. It was odd because he wasn't following her always; it was like he was sometimes there and sometimes elsewhere, but she assumed that Dream kept his raven busy doing something. It was one of the many things about Dream of the Endless that she didn't understand but very much wanted to.

Four days later, Dream appeared in Johanna's dream as if he had been there the entire time. He calmly walked up to her like it was any other dream and not like he hadn't triggered an extremely intense reaction the last time she saw him. Johanna also knew that she was naked in her bed at home because it was cooler to sleep that way and absolutely no other reason.

"Busy?" Johanna asked as they walked through a forest that looked like something she had seen in books about California. Despite the uneven ground, she never felt like she would trip. It was like the world in front of her was made flat so that she couldn't fall, and Johanna wondered if that was a byproduct of him or her.

"There is always plenty to be done," Dream replied, but she could tell something else was on his mind. He seemed to be having a hard time finding the words, but Johanna was enjoying the scenery and wasn't in a rush to get away from this dream anytime soon. "There was someone I needed to talk to before I could speak to you."

"You needed to talk to someone else before talking to me?" she repeated, surprised that Dream needed to run whatever was happening between them to someone else. Then she remembered that he was Endless, time did not exist to him, and there was a very good chance that he had other lovers out there. She knew he had a son at one point; for all Johanna knew, that meant he was still with that woman. Johanna laughed when she realized she was watching a god try to stumble around, telling her he was sleeping with other people, not just her. Dream's head jerked up, and for half a moment, it looked like he would be angry. "Oh, Dream, there are far too many fascinating and broken people out there to be with just one. I don't like limitations or labels or anything like that."

"I understand," Dream said carefully, and Johanna was pretty sure he didn't. So she stopped and made sure to telegraph exactly what she was doing when she reached forward and took his wrist into her hand. She pulled Dream forward just a step or two and smirked.

"I'm saying, Dream of the Endless, that if we fuck and you go off to fuck someone else, I'm not going to get mad about it," Johanna replied in what she knew was the voice that got men and women to melt. It didn't have the desired effect on Dream, but he did look amused by the attempt.

"I should have counted on you to be blunt about things," Dream said as he stepped closer to her. He was close enough to touch, and Johanna was reminded of the first night they met, standing out, without any space between them. This time, he was looking at her with much more intent. Dream placed one hand on her waist and leaned forward. She thought he would kiss her, but instead, he put his lips against her ear again. "Wake up, Johanna."

+++

If anyone asked, Johanna would deny it until the day that she was inevitably condemned to hell, that she woke up moaning. She sat up and let the blanket fall away from her chest. Dream stood across her room, and his eyes glowed in the darkness. It was electrifying to crock her finger and gesture for him to join her. He was still fully dressed, but Johanna didn't care about that. They had him locked up for a hundred years; he had no agency, and she wasn't about to be another one that took that away from him.

Dream crawled across her bed until he leaned over her like a shadow. He still hadn't touched her, and Johanna wasn't going to be the one to break this uneasy thing between them. She made her intentions very clear in that dream and in that daydream that she was reasonably sure he knew about. He knew her answer, but then she remembered that no one ever asked him what he wanted. Maybe he was waiting for her to voice exactly what she wanted. Johanna sat up enough that there was a hairsbreadth between them and looked directly into Dream's eyes.

"I want you," she whispered. It was like whatever barrier was between them shattered as Dream leaned forward and finally kissed her. She should have known that a man who had been around as long as he had was talented with his tongue, but Johanna couldn't remember the last time a simple kiss felt this encompassing. Only a thin sheet covered her, so it was very obvious just how naked she was, but Dream didn't acknowledge it. He seemed keen to drive Johanna a little out of her mind with just his lips. She ran her fingers through his frankly insane-looking hair and settled back on the bed with Dream a comforting weight over her. He shifted away from her mouth and began to slowly make his way down her jawline to her neck, where he found that spot that only a few of her lovers before had found.

"Do you know that I can sense daydreams?" Dream whispered against her skin, "especially when they are very vivid and even more so when I am in them."

"I mentioned after the fact that you shouldn't be sneaking a peak beforehand," Johanna replied, a little embarrassed at how breathless she already sounded. Her entire body felt like a livewire, and he was barely touching her. One of Dream's hands slowly made his way down to her breast and circled one of her nipples between his fingers.

"I didn't hear that part, I'm afraid," he replied, and Johanna was a little annoyed that he didn't even seem affected by any of this. "I am rarely in people's dreams, so even a daydream like that called to me like a siren. It felt like a taunt." Johanna jerked when Dream bit the tender skin on her collarbone.

"It was a taunt," Johanna replied, and Dream sat up enough to look her in the eye. There was something predatory about how he was looking at her right now that shouldn't have turned her on as much as it did. "It was a tease to show you exactly what I want and what you could have if you want it." She pulled Dream up for another kiss as they both worked to get the sheet out of the way. The cool air felt so good against her overheated skin, and even though he was still fully clothed, everywhere he touched her skin was electric. Dream suddenly broke the kiss and sat up enough to unbutton his black jacket and toss it off to the side. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt, and it seemed scandalous just to see his arms. He made no move to remove any other clothing and laid down with her again, drawing Johanna into another kiss while slipping one of his legs in between hers. Even the denim against her care skin made Johanna moan into Dream's mouth.

He was driving her a little out of her mind, and Johanna was about to tell him to fucking touch her before she went crazy when he finally put his hand between her thighs. He was barely touching her, which wasn't nearly enough; Johanna jerked her hips to try and get any friction, but Dream managed to keep from chasing her orgasm. When he finally slipped a finger inside of her, Johanna was sure that she had soaked through her mattress, and she couldn't remember the last time a man made her this wet. Women knew how to get her here, but men often didn't take the time, but Dream had all the time in the world, and he was spending it driving her out of her fucking mind.

Johanna thought it wouldn't take long after that; she was so close, but then Dream would stop just before she came. The second time it happened, Johanna realized what was going on. She groaned in frustration as he smirked down at her.

"You got that detail from the daydream, too?" she asked and cried out when Dream twisted his fingers just the right way.

"It was quite illuminating," he replied. Johanna was about to make some sort of snarky comment or tell him to fucking hurry up when Dream finally moved his thumb in just the right way, and she finally came. It was an incredibly intense orgasm, and once again, she was glad that her neighbors were used to all of this because Johanna was sure she nearly screamed. When she could see straight again, she could still feel his hand between her legs, gently touching her, but Johanna didn't think she would ever see a smug look on Dream's face. She pulled him down to kiss it off of his lips.

Usually, Johanna wasn't one for afterglow since she usually had places to be or something going on, but it was the middle of the night, and no jobs were lined up. So she let herself make out with Dream, slow like syrup, for as long as she pleased. Johanna ran her hands along the exposed skin of his arms and could feel his back muscles moving with his t-shirt. Eventually, after what felt like half a lifetime, she managed to break away from his frankly addicting mouth and closed her to bask a little. Johanna closed her eyes and relaxed a little; it seemed pretty clear to her that this was all they would be doing tonight.

She felt Dream shift next to her, but he didn't climb out of the bed like she thought he would. Instead, he just settled down next to her in the bed, on his back, close enough that their arms were touching. Their fingers occasionally touched, but Johanna didn't feel the need to say much of anything. She needed to get up, clean herself up, and change the sheets, and she wasn't much of a "stay the night" kind of person. Eventually, it became hard to ignore, and she crawled out of bed and walked across to the bathroom. Dream was in her bed, sitting on his elbows, watching her carefully.

Johanna thought she had earned the shirt she threw his way as she closed the bathroom door behind her. She had no idea if he would be out there waiting for her when she emerged from the bathroom but decided that if he wanted to stay longer, he would, and what she did didn't matter. So, a quick shower made her feel much better, and she was glad to find the t-shirt in the clean laundry pile. Maybe she should invest in some sleep clothes. Dream was on his feet, and his jacket was back on by the time she walked out.

"Work to do?" she asked.

"Always," Dream replied. "I will seek you out in your dreams when I can see you again. There are some things I would like to tell you."

"Anytime," Johanna said. She wasn't expecting a good night's kiss. Dream didn't seem like the type, but he did step close and breathe in her presence like that was enough to settle him. Like just being near her was enough. She closed her eyes and waited; there was a slight breeze, and he was gone when she opened her eyes. Yet again, he left some grains of sand on the ground. Johanna knelt down and carefully added them to her collection, still unsure where the compulsion to keep the sand was coming from.

+++

For the first time since Johanna had seen Dream again, she slept that night and didn't dream. Or she didn't remember what she was dreaming about. It didn't quite unsettle her, but after so many days of remembering everything so vividly, coming back to nothing was enough to make her think of it before. She forced the thought from her mind and continued with her day. She worked a few jobs, searching down cursed items and an exorcism that seemed like it was going to be run-of-the-mill. The demon turned to her, its face snarling as it was about to threaten or beg her not to send it back to hell, but it stared at her. It made Johanna hesitate because this was the first time a demon had acted like this with her. The hesitation and staring only lasted a moment, though, so fast that she thought she might be imagining it.

"Don't send me back there," the demon said, "I don't want to go back, don't send me back." It was saying all the words that Johanna was used to hearing from them, but something about them just felt off. She couldn't hold this forever, though, and she had to finish the exorcism. The demon screamed as it dissolved from sight, and everything should have been right, but it still felt wrong somehow. Johanna knelt down, held her hand over the spot where the demon had just vanished, and closed her eyes. She could feel the fury of the demon but nothing more. She collected her fee and made her way back to her flat.

It was nearly two weeks before Dream revealed himself to her in her dreams again, not that Johanna hadn't been teasing him a little. Now that she knew about the daydream and how it would affect it, she suddenly needed to get off a lot more regularly. She didn't, however, dream about him because she wasn't sure if that would be a figment of her imagination or the real man, and she didn't know if he would have a choice if he appeared. Johanna was wandering a village that looked like it was somewhere in Eastern Europe. It looked familiar, but she couldn't exactly place it when a hand reached out and pulled her into an alley. Before she could react, a dark shadow pressed her against the wall.

"You're an infuriating woman," Dream hissed and kissed her hard enough to bruise. It was probably the most forceful he had ever been with her, and Johanna wasn't going to lie and say she wasn't into it. Usually, she was the dominant one in bed, but she had a feeling trying to dominate Dream here, in the Dreaming, was not going to work. So she gave in to it and let him kiss the air from her lungs. She pulled him close and held on for dear life. Finally, he broke away and stared down at her.

"Was it the daydreams?" Johanna whispered, and Dream made a strangled noise. "Were they impossible to ignore? Did they get to you?"

"I should have known better than to fall into bed with a Constantine again," he said against her mouth, which was new information. She would have to go back through her family tree and see who kept that dirty little secret. "You're a menace."

"So I've been told," Johanna replied, pulling him into another kiss. They stayed pressed against that alley long enough that she seriously considered asking him to end the dream when he finally pulled away and closed his eyes. She could see him gathering his composure, and as much as she wanted to poke at it, she remembered that he said there were things he needed to tell her. So Johanna stayed close, slowed her heart down, and didn't say anything. Dream eventually opened his eyes, and he looked a little relieved to see her just standing there, not attempting to tempt him in any way.

"Come with me," he said. Johanna allowed him to guide her from the dream to his palace in the blink of an eye. They were in the throne room, but something about it felt more closed off now. If she tried to find any doors, there wouldn't be any, which was intentional. It seemed he didn't want to vocalize all of this to his entire kingdom, which she could respect. They both settled down at the bottom of the staircase beneath his throne and looked up at the sky in the ceiling. "You guessed correct; when we first met, I was the devil Burgess was keeping in his basement."

"I figured," Johanna replied. "I also did a little math and realized that the timing lined up that you got taken and the sleeping sickness came; that was from him keeping you captured?"

"Yes," Dream said, "and it wasn't just that. The damage to your world and the Dreaming was vast. In some ways, I'm still rebuilding it and fixing everything that was left to fall to ruin while I was gone. There are details, however, that I believe I should tell you."

"If you don't want to, you don't have to," she said, but he shook his head.

"No, they are important because they impact how I act around you, and I dislike it. I dislike that it is still affecting me profoundly," he explained. Johanna stared at him like she didn't believe what she was hearing.

"It's been a few weeks since you were set free, right?" she asked, and he nodded. "And you're surprised it is still affecting you? That is no time at all; of course, it is." Johanna's voice was a little more exasperated than she intended, but it made him chuckle a little for some reason.

"You are the second person to tell me that," Dream said. "As I said, it is still affecting me and how I act around you, so I feel the need to explain it. The cage they kept me in was made of iron and glass with a binding circle on the ground that kept me powerless. They took my clothing and left me bare, with nothing, in that glass ball for over a hundred years. Burgess feared what I would do if I ever regained my freedom, so guards were always watching me. There was not a moment that I was alone, yet I was also away from everyone simultaneously." Johanna could hear how angry he still was about all of this, and she could only imagine what that would do to someone. "So I've been informed by someone else that this has made me a little "touch starved," so I enjoy being close to you even if we are not touching. I am also uncomfortable with the idea of removing my clothing at the moment. If these are reasons you would like to stop having sex, then we will stop."

It was a lot to take in, and Johanna very much wanted to call Burgess back from hell so she could give him a piece of her mind, but that wasn't what she was going to do. She remembered that he was looking for his sand and he told her that it was a part of him. So not only did they display him naked, but they cut away pieces and then took them away. Her rage wouldn't help this situation, and a partner willing to tell her exactly what they were comfortable with in such a frank way was rare.

"Thank you for telling me," Johanna replied when she was sure that the anger in her voice wouldn't be too apparent. "None of those are too much for me to handle. I'm sure we can figure out other ways to enjoy ourselves." When she glanced over at Dream, she could see that he was watching her carefully, but then he nodded. "How much of this would you like me to keep to myself?"

"Many know that I was captured and taken against my will, but only one other knows all of the details I just shared with you," Dream replied. "I learned recently that my capture was orchestrated by one of my siblings, and that does not sit right with me. I'm hesitant to allow many of them or others I do not get along with to see this kind of weakness in me." The sibling comment threw Johanna for a loop, but she didn't allow it to knock her off her feet completely. Another time, she would ask him about that; that wasn't what they were discussing right now.

"Consider it told to me in confidence," Johanna replied. She wasn't sure how much her word meant to Dream; she remembered him saying that no one in her family was trustworthy, but Johanna knew about waiting to keep weakness from others who could exploit it. However, the idea of someone who could make Dream nervous enough that he wanted to hide parts of himself away made her very uneasy. There couldn't be much in the universe that would make an Endless afraid, and Johanna wasn't sure she wanted to find out what it could possibly be.

Despite how this interaction started, it didn't seem like the right time to take Dream to bed, either in the real world or in the Dreaming. So Johanna allowed him to show her more of his realm and things so impossible that they could only exist in dreams. The heaviness of the previous conversation still lingered, but Johanna felt they had taken some real steps forward. She was also looking forward to doing some planning to figure out how she could effectively have sex with this man while taking off as few of his clothes as possible.

She was a woman with needs, after all.

It was strange to settle into a routine, but it felt like she did. Johanna often didn't trust it when the world felt too easy, but maybe this was the one time when that was okay. She had what was essentially a god looking over her shoulder almost always. Matthew was around at times when Dream would vanish for days at a time. It didn't bother her too much because she knew he was nearby and watching her. Besides, she was plenty busy herself and keeping an eye on things.

Not long after their talk, Dream ended up in her flat, and they kissed on the bed. Now that Johanna knew how he felt about clothing, she had bought some actual sleep shorts and some shirts to climb into bed with; otherwise, it was a little odd to be in bed with someone fully clothed. Dream's hands were beginning to sneak into her underwear, where she was already wet and wanting, but she stopped him. He froze when she even indicated that she wanted him to stop; what a novel concept for a man.

"I have an idea," she whispered into his skin. "I'm afraid it will require you to do something you might not want to do."

"And what is that, exactly?" Dream asked, but he already sounded like he had an idea of what she would ask him.

"You're going to have to trust me a little," Johanna replied. Dream raised an eyebrow at her and took a moment to think it over. She would have been insulted if she hadn't known that there was a ton of history between her family and him. "If you want to stop, we can stop at any time, the same way you just stopped for me."

"Very well, what would you have me do?" Dream asked, and Johanna smirked as she moved out of his arms.

"Lay down on your back for me," she said. He did so; he had taken off his jacket at least, so he was in his jeans, a t-shirt, and his boots. Johanna slipped her shorts off but kept her underwear and t-shirt on. She watched him very carefully as she climbed on top of him and settled onto his lap. This was the kind of sex that she was much more used to having, and the idea of having any sort of dominance over an Endless was rather tantalizing. Johanna rolled her hips a little, and Dream reached out to place his hands on them. "Here is what I'm going to do," she explained as she continued to roll her hips and tease him. "I'm going to open your jeans and move them just enough to take you out, no more. How does that sound to you?" She was very pleased that she got a small groan out of Dream when she rolled her hips again.

"I think that will work," Dream replied, but he didn't allow her to do much of anything. He pulled her down into a kiss as she continued to move against him. He was distracting her with that talented tongue of his, and she wasn't going to allow that to happen. Johanna pulled away and fully up. She telegraphed all of her moves as she slid down a little and unbuttoned Dream's jeans. They were a little on the tight side, so they both had to wiggle in a rather undignified matter to get them down just low enough that Johanna could pull him into her hand.

She looked into his eyes again, and from what she could tell, Dream still looked okay. She moved up so she was hovering over him on her knees. Johanna should have let him stretch her with his fingers, but it had been a long time since she had been with a man, and she was a glutton for punishment. It took some fancy handwork on her part to move her underwear to the side enough for Dream to finally side into her. His hands were back on her hips, but Johanna could barely feel them, too focused on how good he felt. The contrast between her bare thighs and his clothing felt incredible.

Johanna slowly began to move and had to throw her head back; it felt so good. It was a little frightening how lost she was in this because he was somehow hitting that perfect spot in her without even trying. She almost wanted to make a joke about if this was one of his abilities as an Endless, but all of her words had left her. Johanna was chasing her own release, trying to get there as fast as possible, when Dream sat up and pulled her deeper into his lap. She didn't have the leverage to move as much now, but the angle still felt incredible. Now, all she could do was roll her hips and try to make that enough, but Johanna knew it wouldn't be. She groaned, far too turned on and more than a little frustrated, as Dream began to kiss her neck. Johanna needed more, but she hadn't begged a day in her life; she wasn't about to start now.

Apparently, she was going to start making the most pathetic-sounding little whimpers that Johanna was almost embarrassed for herself.

"Fuck," she cried out when Dream bit down on the tender part of her neck that would be impossible to hide without some concealer. It sent a jolt of pleasure through her entire body, but it still wasn't enough, and at this point, she was sure that Dream was purposely doing this to her yet again. Johanna was about to yell at him and tell him to lie down and let her get on with it when he suddenly flipped them over. It was so fast that Johanna didn't even realize it happened until Dream pressed her into the mattress. If she was being charitable, she might think that he was quite literally fucking her brains out because all she could do was wrap her legs around his waist and pull him down into a rough kiss. She was close, right there, when Dream bent her leg changed the angle, and Johanna nearly bit his lip as she came. She also might have managed to dig her nails into his skin through his t-shirt.

Johanna was still coming down when Dream began to move again, and this really was a reminder that this man had been having various forms of sex for as long as humanity existed. Of course, he was fantastic at it; she wasn't sure why she expected anything less. He was still hard inside her, and Johanna wondered what he was waiting for when he released her leg, changed the angle again, and moved his fingers between her legs. Apparently, one time wasn't enough. She was fairly sure she cried out some variation of "oh god," as Dream moved those damn talented fingers of his between her legs. Dream nibbled on her ear and pressed his lips there just like he did in the library.

"Again," he said, and despite how much she did not want to obey him out of sheer pettiness, her body apparently had other ideas because she came again, somehow harder. Johanna felt Dream jerk his hips and pressed his moan into the skin of her neck that was covered in bruises, she was sure. They were both breathing hard, and she didn't exactly want to move away from him just yet. Dream must have agreed with that sentiment because he shifted just enough to look into her eyes and kiss her softly. This was unlike any other kiss they had shared before, and if there was one thing Dream had done recently, it was kiss and hold her like she was something precious. She didn't deserve that.

However, Johanna's legs weren't currently working, and he really was a fantastic kisser. They were both covered in sweat, and she could only imagine the state of his pants after having her on top of him for a while, but that seemed to be a problem for them. Eventually, Dream shifted enough that he was no longer inside of her, and Johanna allowed herself to bask a little in the afterglow as he continued to touch her. It was good enough that she thought she would fall asleep, and that wouldn't be a good idea. Johanna opened her eyes to Dream, watching her very carefully.

"I'm assuming all of that was okay?" she asked.

"Yes, it was; it seems I was right to trust a Constantine this time," Dream replied. Johanna rolled her eyes and climbed out of bed. She tossed her clothing on the floor as she went to the bathroom. Whatever Dream needed to do, he could do it in privacy; she wouldn't take that away from him. It seemed she was right that he had left quite the array on her neck, but Johanna was fairly sure she could cover it. A quick shower and bathroom run made her feel much more human. Dream was fully dressed, coat included, when she walked out in nothing. As she walked over to get new sleep clothes, his eyes followed her every move. Maybe she was putting on a little show as she got dressed, but Johanna was sure that no one could prove that. When she turned around, Dream was a lot closer. She was about to ask him if he would leave when he kissed her again, softly, as he did before, and it still was the most frightening thing he had done so far. "Be safe, Johanna," he said against her mouth.

"Aren't I always?" Johanna replied, but the humor was a little lost with how breathless she sounded. Dream huffed a laugh and took several steps back. In a whirl of sand, he was gone. She stared at the spot momentarily, ignored this weird feeling in her chest, and gathered the grains left behind. When Johanna slept that night, she didn't dream and was thankful for it.

+++

Johanna tried to put the way that Dream occasionally acted around her from her mind and just enjoy the excellent sex for what it was. It was a lot easier to process that than trying to think that he might care for her a little more than just as a sexual partner and maybe an ally if the situation called for it. However, the more she learned about him, the more everything about this world seemed to set her on edge. Even with everything she had studied and the many years of research her family had put into everything that couldn't be explained, it seemed that she still didn't know anything. and that felt weak. Johanna did not like being vulnerable, so she tried to get as much information from Dream and Matthew as possible when he would land and speak to her occasionally.

She was planning on spending the day talking to her contacts so she could find a new job. Dream had stopped by the night before and buried his face between her legs for so long that Johanna thought she might actually die. He made her come three times before she managed to get the upper hand on him and get his clothing where it needed to be so they could fuck. He was still incredible at it and left tiny pieces of himself on her floor when he vanished from sight. Johanna hadn't told her about keeping the sand, but now she had a small pile of it in a vial. It was likely worth something, but she wasn't sure if the cost would be worth it.

So she was looking for a job, and Matthew was sitting on her windowsill, chattering away like he didn't have a care in the world. Johanna often ignored him because Matthew would just tell her about things happening in the Dreaming, but today, he talked about not long after he and Dream met. In fact, it wasn't long before she helped him get his sand back.

"It wasn't what I expected, but I guess you couldn't put a finger on what you would expect when it comes to that," Matthew said.

"What did what look like?" Johanna asked, not really paying attention.

"Hell," Matthew replied, and Johanna froze. Matthew and, by extension, Dream had been to hell recently, which meant he could know some way to get Astra back. However, she needed more information first, so she plastered her usual smirk and looked over at Matthew.

"I suppose that's true," Johanna said as she returned to her things. Now, she was just looking busy and paying attention to every detail Matthew told her. If she took notes while he explained the little adventure, then it was just her taking notes for the next job she would do, of course. Matthew told her a tale of Dream and him walking through hell, meeting one of Dream's former lovers that he had damned there when she had betrayed him, which was certainly something that she should have learned before now, and meeting Lucifer herself.

Matthew had a hard time putting words to the battle that he witnessed between Lucifer and Dream, but apparently, there are rules when it comes to beings like them fighting. Johanna supposed that she should be thankful for that; otherwise, they could accidentally annihilate the entire planet and not even realize it. While those details were good to know, they weren't the ones that Johanna latched onto. It was the fact that Dream had a way into hell, so maybe that meant he could help her pull Astra out. Perhaps he could help her fix her greatest mistake.

Of course, Dream would vanish for an extended amount of time, so her anxiety about the entire situation only got worse. She wasn't sure which question she wanted to ask him about first but decided that maybe bringing up this lover he damned to hell was the right way to go. From there, she could lead him to help free Astra. It was the middle of the night, and Johanna was reading when she felt that familiar breeze behind her. She turned around and saw Dream standing in her living room, and he looked a little amused.

"Late night?" he asked.

"Research," Johanna replied, but she didn't make any move to get up. Dream watched her carefully momentarily, then slowly walked over and sat on her couch. Seeing him look so human was strange, but she ignored those feelings and pushed through. There was nothing more important than getting Astra back. "Matthew has been telling me many tales about your adventures?"

"I'm sure he has," Dream said, and he did sound a little annoyed. Johanna felt a little bad for half a second that she was likely about to get Matthew in trouble with his boss, but nothing else mattered. She was going to power through all of this.

"He told me about getting your helm back," Johanna said. She watched Dream's face and could see when he started to shut down. If she were a good person, she would have stopped talking and realized he did not want to discuss this. Johanna was not a good person, so she powered on. "He told me about a woman named Nada."

"What of her?" Dream asked after a prolonged silence. His tone of voice reminded her of their first meeting, which didn't bode well for any of this. However, this could be the thing that pushes him away, so she had to power on.

"As someone sleeping with you, I feel like I should have been informed that a consequence of such was getting damned to hell," Johanna replied, raising her voice just a little so Dream knew she was serious. For half a moment, she wondered if he was about to throw the words "I thought you already were" back at her, but he didn't.

"That was a long time ago," Dream said.

"And Matthew said she just asked you to let her out while you were there recently, and you didn't. So, is this what happens when people sleep with you? You damn them to hell?" Johanna stood up and clenched her fists. Dream was also on his feet, and he towered over her, but she stood her ground.

"You could not even begin to understand any of it," Dream said lowly. "Rest assured, Johanna Constantine, if you do not betray me, then we will not have any issues."

"And what exactly constitutes a betrayal? Are you going to lay out a fucking list for me so I know what I have to do to keep my eternal soul safe?" Johanna snapped, but this was getting off-topic. She needed to strike now. "You could bring Nada out of hell; that is something you could do?"

"Yes," Dream said as he narrowed his eyes, "but I don't understand what that has to do with this discussion."

"So, should you damn me? I know you could pull me out if I wanted," Johanna said. "Or, you could help me pull out someone who never deserved to go there in the first place." She was paying attention so Johanna could see that whatever Dream expected her to say wasn't this. "You can help me get Astra out of there."

"You want me to pull Astra out of hell for you," Dream said.

"Yes, that is what I want you to do," Johanna replied. Dream stared at her again before something in him broke, and he smiled just a little. It wasn't a good smile, though; it was very bitter, and he laughed a little to himself. He stepped away from her and shook his head as if she had just told a joke. Johanna was about to say to him that Astra was not a fucking joke for him to be laughing about when he spoke.

"My sister reminded me of why I need to stay connected to you humans, but it's so obvious that you have no idea what is happening in the universe around you. You have no idea how this world works and the rules that exist to keep everything from falling into anarchy," Dream said as he looked her dead in the eyes. "You think me a god, but I am not; I'm one of the Endless, and I cannot simply walk into hell and demand a soul because of a mistake you made. You're a mortal; you cannot possibly know what you ask of me, which is why I keep my distance from all of you. You don't understand anything about what I do and what impact anything I do can have on the world.

"Matthew couldn't tell you this, but I can," Dream continued, "None of my siblings could help me out of my prison, and the reason they couldn't help me was because I didn't ask. If I don't ask, they cannot come, a rule that I'm assuming would make absolutely no sense to you, but that is how things are done. To make a move on hell like that would mean war between the Dreaming and Hell, and no soul is worth a war, and certainly not one that you are only trying to save for assuaging your own guilt."

"Of course, I feel fucking guilty about what happened to her, anyone with a heart would, but it seems that you don't consider how you're going to continue to let another woman rot in there for doing something to make you angry," Johanna snapped.

"Fear not, Constantine, I won't be the one to damn you to Hell," Dream said replied. The wording of that statement felt very deliberate and set her teeth on edge. She wanted to hit him, but she wasn't sure if it would make a difference. "You won't be getting what you want from me, so when I need of you or your descendants again, I'll find you." Johanna was about to tell him that he could fuck right off for all she cared when he did exactly that, fucked off, and vanished without another word and in a cloud of sand. As always, there were pieces of him left on the floor, and she wanted to kick them. However, Johanna knew the power of things, so she gathered the sand and added it to the vile.

She rolled the small glass through her fingers and looked at the sand. It looked like sand you would find anywhere, but Johanna knew this sand was a part of the Sandman. That is what Dream told her when they first met, that the sand was part of him, and she held a very small part of him in her hands. She wasn't sure why it felt important to remind herself of that, but she did. Johanna didn't think that Dream would go against his word and hurt her, but perhaps it was time to look into the book that had trapped him in the first place. She had promised to keep it safe, and she had been, but now seemed like the right time to pull it out.

Johanna had no desire to trap the Sandman or anyone else, but knowing some of the magic that could do such a thing could only benefit her now. Once again, she was alone, and there wasn't anyone looking out for her. She silently scolded herself for getting so complacent, knowing that Dream was in her mind and Matthew was keeping an eye on her in the real world. Johanna worked alone, and it was time to rectify that.

It was late, and there wasn't any reason to do all of that now. So Johanna climbed onto her couch, fully clothed as she used to before she had a regular bedmate again, and closed her eyes. She slept; when she dreamed, it was like any other dream, and Johanna was alone.

+++

Johanna threw herself back into her research and work without looking back. She refused to feel bad about using a connection available to her to try and get Astra back. There was nothing wrong with her asking Dream to help her. It was on him to take it as personally as he did. Maybe she was a little harsh leading into the conversation about Nada, but Johanna hadn't realized how much that story scared her until she confronted him. The idea that no one seemed to know what she did to make him so angry was even worse. How angry could she make Dream the Endless before she suffered the same fate? Were there other descendants of her that he had thrown into the pit? There was no way to tell, but that didn't stop her from looking into it as much as she could.

Her first descendant to write about Dream was Lady Johanna Constantine, with whom she shared a name, and her notes were interesting. They started as vague mentions of men meeting in the same tavern every 100 years and became more detailed as the centuries passed. Johanna never stopped to think about why Dream would be meeting someone in some random tavern before now. He spoke of humans with such disdain recently, and Matthew had mentioned that he was better than before he was taken. Who could he possibly be meeting?

There was no way it was a human because that person would be hundreds of years old at this point, and Johanna didn't care how talented someone was; they couldn't hold back death. She had met many people who dabbled in magic, including Burgess, as Dream found out, who thought they could find a way to eternal life, but it just didn't exist. Death came for everyone, so maybe it was Death that Dream was meeting.

He had mentioned his siblings in mostly vague terms, but Johanna could only imagine that other Endless were also things that were once linked to gods in history. Death had to be one of them; it just made sense, and Johanna was part of the natural circle of life in the same way that Dream was. All things died, and all things dreamed, hence the need for both of them. So maybe she was meeting one of his siblings in that tavern.

That also didn't make much sense because why meet there? They could meet anywhere and anytime, and Johanna assumed there was some way to hide from human eyes. From Lady Johanna's notes, the man that Dream was with fought her men and defended himself like he needed to defend himself. Dream, however, barely moved until he threw the Lady into a nightmare she couldn't escape for far too long. If Dream was nonplussed, it would stand to reason that one of his siblings would also be just as nonchalant about someone threatening them, yet this man fought back.

This whole thing sent her down a rabbit hole, and Johanna was so deep that she nearly jumped when her mobile rang. She looked up and realized she had lost track of time and didn't know what day it was. The phone rang again, so she answered.

"Hello?" she asked, not really paying attention. She wanted to tell this person to fuck off because she was busy right now.

"Johanna Constantine?" a voice asked on the other line. It wasn't anyone that she knew, and that was surprising. Nearly all of her recent jobs had come from repeat customers, aside from the detective in the States looking for an answer to the serial killers suddenly gaining empathy.

"I am; who is this?" Johanna asked.

"My name is Nora, and I'm--" Nora hesitated, and it was clear that she wasn't sure how many details she should be giving right now.

"Just Nora is fine, and what you do is irrelevant unless it has something to do with what you need from me," Johanna said.

"It does, and it does," Nora replied. "I have an issue that can't be explained with medicine, and the person said something strange to me when it first happened. No one can explain what happened to them, and I was wondering if you could come to take a look?"

"You think it's something I could take care of?" Johanna asked, but she was already up and moving about. The things that medical science couldn't explain were usually somewhere in her wheelhouse, so she needed to take a look. If nothing else, it could be another demon, and she needed to ensure that demon got sent back to hell. She was in for a long trip to undo it if it was a curse, but if anyone could figure it out, Johanna knew she could.

"All other resources have been exhausted, and I was given your name by someone who didn't want me to mention their name," Nora replied. "Can you at least come and look? If you tell me that I'm off my rocker and this is just some unexplained medical issue, then at least we've ruled something else out. I have some money the person gave me near the beginning when they were still lucid more than they weren't, and I can use it to pay your fee."

"You've piqued my interest, if nothing else, Nora; where am I going?" Johanna replied. Nora gave her the address of the long-term care facility across town, and Johanna spent the morning getting ready for this. She was tired and couldn't remember the last time she slept, but she was awake enough to do this. Johanna could always return after getting more sleep if it was something that she would have to handle.

It was late afternoon when she got to the facility, and a young woman with dark hair was waiting outside for her. Johanna wasn't the only one who looked a little dead on her feet. She smiled briefly when Johanna walked up to her.

"Constantine?"

"You must be, Nora, all right, on with it, let's see what happened here. Or tell me what happened," Johanna said. Nora nodded and then walked in the front door. Nora was clearly not a nurse, but the staff let her walk in as she worked there, which was interesting. She carried herself like someone familiar with medicine, so perhaps someone studying medicine.

"His name is Richard Madoc; you might have heard of his books?" Nora explained, and Johanna shrugged because she didn't get much time for casual reading, but the name sounded familiar, at least. "A month ago, he was lecturing and just kept talking. He said they were ideas, but it was like they couldn't stop, and half of them were gibberish that didn't make sense. He ran out of the lecture, and when I found him, he had written words all over the walls in the hallway in blood." Nora reached into her pocket and handed Johanna some pictures of the words. They weren't any sort of spell; they just looked like the bare bones of ideas, and most didn't make any sense to her. So, the words weren't an attempt to summon anything.

"What happened next?" Johanna asked, and she handed Nora the photos back.

"He was taken to the hospital, and he asked me to go to his place," Nora hesitated like this was something she didn't want to say. "He said there was a woman in a locked room in his flat, and I needed to go 'free her.' There wasn't anything but a copy of a book. When I got back, he stopped the endless talking, but now it was like he wasn't there. He kept saying that he couldn't remember "him" or "her," but now his mind was almost empty. It was like someone opened the dam's floodgates and let everything spill out in a brilliant rush that didn't last long, and when the gates closed again, there wasn't any water left. There just isn't anything left, and he has slipped in and out of coherency since then. As far as we can tell, he's fine medically but has difficulty forming a single thought. He used to be a prolific writer, and now he can't write a sentence. It was all so sudden, and no medical issue that is sudden like that wouldn't leave a scar in some way."

They stopped in front of a room, and the door was open. Johanna looked inside and saw an older man sitting in a chair, staring out the window. He was frowning and looked deep in thought but also frustrated. Johanna glanced at Nora, who nodded and allowed her to walk into the room. She didn't hide her presence, and Richard looked up when she walked in. His face was familiar in a vague way like she had seen him in the tabloids at some point.

"Hello, Richard," Johanna said, letting her voice go up an octave or two to see if that might help set him at ease. Clearly, he was trying to form a sentence, and she waited for him. It took a very long time.

"Do I know you?" he asked slowly, like he wasn't sure if those were the right words, but they were clear and didn't have any sort of slur to them.

"I'm afraid not; Nora asked me to come in and take a look at you. I specialized in other ways that people are hurt, and maybe it's something I can fix," Johanna explained. "I know speaking and forming sentences is hard for you, so I'm going to ask you a 'yes' or 'no' question, and you just nod or shake your head, yeah?" Richard blinked and stared at her for a long time until he finally nodded.

"Excellent. Do you remember anything about your time before you began to speak a lot?" she asked, and Richard nodded. "Good. Are those memories clear?" Richard frowned and held up a hand to signal "sort of." "Do you have blank spaces in them, like parts have been removed?" he nodded. That didn't surprise her, and Johanna would normally think this was some sort of possession gone wrong, but a demon would have left a mark that she could feel on him, and she didn't feel anything. Nora was quite right that this wasn't a medical issue, but it wasn't reading like anything she had seen before. "Nora said you mentioned a man and a woman right after the speaking ended. Do you still not remember who they were?" Richard shook his head rather definitively. "May I touch your face?" Johanna asked. Richard looked surprised by that request but nodded. Nothing in him felt supernatural, dark, or demonic, yet Nora was quite right; there wasn't a medical explanation for any of this either. "Thank you," Johanna said as she stepped away from him. "I'm going to spend some time looking into your case, so I'll be back, alright?" Richard nodded and looked back out the window with a heavy sigh.

Nora was waiting for her outside the door, leaning against the wall, frowning deeply. When Johanna walked out, she looked up. "Did you mean it? Are you going to look into it?"

"No medical or explanation that I can define either; let's just say that I do enjoy a good puzzle," Johanna replied.

Unfortunately for Johanna, the first thing she needed to try to get more information on Richard was to look into his life, which meant reading his books. Nora seemed to think that Richard "put a lot of himself" into his books, and maybe something in there could help her figure out why this man seemed to have such a hard time forming a thought. There was a chance that whatever happened to him was just traumatic to his mind, and it needed time to recover; that would be her diagnosis if she didn't find anything else, but something bothered her about this.

The books were the type of dribble that got people a lot of praise for doing the bare minimum. The stories were interesting and well planned out, but there was something about the characters that she didn't like. The way this man wrote women was supposed to be empowering, so many of his fans and even critics praised him for his ability to write women, but something about them felt off. The more she dug into the smaller corners of the internet, the more she found whispered discussions that Richard was not the feminist he claimed to be. Johanna thought that was interesting and spoke to some sort of disconnect between the story and the characters, but she wasn't sure if that was enough. She noted it and found a way into Richard's home.

The second she walked into the flat, it was like getting kicked in the chest with bad energy. The whole place was dripping, and Johanna swore she could see it coating everything like a sludge. To anyone sensitive, it would make this entire place feel like it was off, and they wanted to leave, but to someone trained like her, it was a lot.

"What have you been up to, Richard Madoc?" Johanna asked and waited to see if the ghosts in this house had any answers for her. It seemed that whatever left this feeling all over the flat had left and wasn't here anymore. Was it here because Richard was doing something, or was it just an after-effect of whatever happened to him lingering behind? She didn't think it was the latter because the energy felt thick like it had spent years coating things. Whatever this was, it was not a one-time event. The sign in the closet that said, "Please don't go upstairs!" that looked like it got a lot of use was interesting. There were stories about some parties that Richard would throw, and it seemed he didn't want people snooping around his home.

Johanna looked upstairs and waited to see if anything would attack her just for coming up there. If this were something territorial, she would have a rude awakening very soon, but Nora said that she was up here after the event happened, and nothing happened to her. Johanna walked up the stairs and began to poke her way through the bathroom and Richard's bedroom; the coat of bad energy was thicker there. However, Johanna stopped when she found a door with a lock on the outside.

"A woman in a locked room," Johanna whispered, and she opened the door. To the naked eye, the room was empty, but to her, it was too much. Whatever happened in this room was the thing that left the sludge all over the house. Something was forming in her mind, but Johanna didn't understand how Richard could have possibly held a woman captive, and no one noticed. Surely, she must have needed food or water or anything. Johanna made a note to go back through his back records and see if that could tell her anything, but she didn't like the idea forming in her mind.

+++

The bank records did yield something interesting. Right before his second book was published, Richard had bought many things that made it look like he was trying to woo someone, but he never mentioned a wife or a girlfriend. However, the purchases stopped after a little while and never happened again. There was no way he could hide those purchases or an entire human in that room without someone noticing. It would have gotten too messy, and that room, while dirty with bad energy, was pristine. Nothing aside from the locks made it look like a prison.

Johanna spent some more time with Richard and tried to ask him about the room, but he seemed confused and didn't answer her about it. Nora didn't seem to have any answers about the room either, but Johanna knew that Richard was up to something that wasn't natural.

"Did he ever possess anything strange?" Johanna asked as Nora walked Johanna toward her taxi. "Did he ever request anything that you couldn't explain?"

"In August 2018, he did ask me for something and made me swear not to tell anyone what I gave him," Nora said, and she hesitated.

"I'm not the police or the university, Nora; I don't give a fuck what you stole," Johanna replied.

"He wanted a genuine trichobezoar," Nora replied, and Johanna gestured for her to continue. "It's a mass removed from the stomach of a woman who has eaten her own hair. It was a weird thing to ask for, but I thought he might need it for his book research. I didn't really want it back, so I didn't ask what he did with it." Nora suddenly looked a little frantic. "Does that have something to do with what's happening to him? Am I responsible for this?" Johanna stopped and looked Nora in the eye.

"The only ones responsible for what happened to Richard are the one who did it and Richard himself. All you did was get him something. If he really wanted one, he would have found another way to get one with or without your help," Johanna replied. That seemed to ease Nora's guilt, and Johanna got into her taxi. She gathered up her belongings and went back to Richard's flat. If she was going to figure this out, she needed to be here, which meant staying in that room.

It was late into the night, or perhaps very early morning, when Johanna was thinking of getting a little sleep when she felt a presence behind her. She turned around, and Dream was standing in the room's doorway.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Client," Johanna replied. "The guy who lives here went out of his mind for a few hours and now has difficulty forming a coherent thought. Medical science can't figure it out, so they called me."

"Let this go, Constantine," Dream said. Johanna narrowed her eyes and stood up. Dream didn't move as she walked into his space.

"This is a client; I'm being paid, so I need to at least exhaust--"

"I said you need to let this go," Dream snapped, and now he sounded angry. Something about this room was setting him on edge, and Johanna felt it wasn't the bad energy she could feel. There was something about this that was really getting under Dream's skin.

"Tell me why," Johanna replied.

"I don't owe you any--"

"Yes, yes, you're a King and whatever, you don't me owe anything; I still want to know why I should walk away from this job because until you give me one, I'm going to keep looking into this until I figure out what made that man go out of his mind," Johanna interrupted. Dream didn't reply; he just glared at her, like that would make any difference when it came to these things. However, the silence was loud, making something click in her head. Dream hadn't ever told her to walk away from a job before, and he would only ask if he was involved. "Did you do it?"

"I don't answer to you, Constantine," he replied, which was answer enough.

"You did; this was you; you're the one who made Richard Madoc's mind burn so bright that there's nothing left," Johanna said. "First, the serial killers, and now this, you have a strange way of intervening with people. Is Richard Madoc a secret serial killer I should know about and deserve this punishment?"

"He deserves worse. What I gave him what mercy compared to what I wanted to do him," Dream snapped. "What he did is of no concern to you, Constantine, but he deserved to be punished. What happened to him will eventually fix itself; the damage isn't permanent, and he'll be his pathetic self again soon."

"Why do you get to decide who gets what justice? Who are you to decide what people deserve?" Johanna asked. "Is this what you do, Dream? You punish those who have wronged you and that you think deserve it, whether by destroying their minds or sending them to hell. Someone wrongs you, and you think that gives you the right to punish them." She gestured to the room, and she swore that Dream flinched. "What did he do to deserve it? Someone said something about a woman locked in a room, and I can feel something terrible happened here, so tell me, what happened?"

"It is not my story to tell and certainly not to you. She is safe, and that is all that matters," Dream said after a long silence. "I would ask you to trust that he deserved this punishment, but I can see you do not trust me."

"You're the one who said that you can't trust anyone in my family; think of it as me returning the gesture," Johanna said, and she sighed heavily. "We're all just one misstep away from the wrath of Dream of the Endless reigning down on us."

"If that is what you think, then so be it," Dream said, and he was gone. Once again, there was sand on the ground that Johanna took the time to collect carefully. Nora wouldn't like the explanation that Richard would get better eventually, but Johanna didn't know what version of Richard would exist. Perhaps he deserved it, but she had a hard time reconciling the idea of God or Lucifer judging souls. The idea of the Endless judging the actions in real time felt like walking through an active field filled with landmines.

Johanna wondered when she was going to step on one and what the consequences of one would be.

+++

The first day after the fight with Dream, Johanna was jumping at shadows in a way that she hadn't since she was very small. It was like every time she looked over her should, she expected to see Dream standing there, ready to say that she pissed him off enough that she would be locked in Hell just like Nada. Nothing came, however, and eventually, she had to move on with her life. Unfortunately, moving on with her life meant she needed to go to Nora and Richard and tell them that there wasn't anything she could do for them, but she thought it might get better eventually.

Nora was waiting outside when Johanna pulled up, and she seemed to know that something was wrong immediately. Johanna didn't have it to argue, so she held up a hand, and Nora followed her silently into the building. Johanna walked into Richard's room without knocking and was loud enough that he jumped a little when she walked in.

"Did you really need to do that?" Nora asked.

"I don't know, Richard, did I?" Johanna asked, and he frowned deeply. "What did you do?"

"He's been here the entire time, so I don't know what--"

"Quiet, Nora, the adults are talking," Johanna snapped without looking away from Richard. He looked confused, still like he had no idea what she was talking about, and maybe he couldn't remember whatever he did to make Dream so angry. "I was in your home; I felt the energy there. I could feel something terrible had happened there, and it wasn't this situation. This was something that had sunk into the floorboards, so whatever it was, you were doing it for years, and it was enough to poison your entire home. It was enough to make something furious at you, and you were punished for it."

"I don't remember," Richard said carefully, but she could tell he wasn't lying. Nora, however, looked white as a sheet. Whatever she thought could be the answer, apparently, the idea that her favorite writer was a cad didn't even register for her.

"What did he do?" Nora whispered.

"Don't know, and apparently, neither does he anymore," Johanna replied. "I know what did this to him, and telling you about it won't make anything better. There isn't anything you can do to it, and the fact that he doesn't remember anything makes me think that this thing doesn't want him to remember." Johanna looked at Nora. "The damage to his mind should heal with time. From what I understand, the punishment was the talking; this is just backlash or a side effect. He just needs to heal, and he'll be fine again." Nora nodded silently and looked at Richard like she didn't really know what to do with him. Richard blinked and looked back at her like Nora was going to be the one to make all of this make sense. Something about that made her flinch, and Nora stood up a little taller.

"I'll handle your fee, Miss. Constantine," Nora said, and she turned to walk out of the room without looking back at Richard.

"Wait," Richard said as Johanna was about to walk away, "please, tell me, what did this to me? What did I do to deserve this?" It was the most coherent sentence she had heard from him since she had met him. Of all the sentences for him to say, it had to be this one.

"Good luck with your next book, Mr. Madoc," Johanna replied, leaving the room. Nora was waiting with a check in hand and handed it over without saying anything. It was their agreed-upon fee if Johanna had found a way to cure Richard of the thing that was ailing him, but it seemed that Nora was taking this as a sign that this would be the best they would get.

"Miss. Constantine," Nora said quietly as Johanna began to walk away. "You said whatever he did was bad, so bad that it sunk into the floor boards and poisoned his flat. You said it was going on for years. That night, he said there was a woman in that room. Do you think he somehow was..." She trailed off like she didn't know how to finish that sentence.

"I don't have answers for you, Nora, because even I don't know what he did. What I can tell you is that it takes something truly evil to poison a place like that, and whatever was happening in that room, he sent you to that night where you found nothing, it was bad. You should do with that information as you will." Johanna replied without turning around. As she walked out of the building, she felt that Nora wouldn't be a visitor for Richard anymore. She felt that he had just lost the last link that cared about him in any way. The idea of Dream passing judgment like that didn't sit right with her, but Johanna wouldn't lose any sleep knowing that Richard Madoc was alone in this world.

+++

Johanna tried to push Richard Madoc and whatever he did from her mind, but his home energy felt like it hung onto her skin like oil. No matter how hard she tried, there wasn't any getting rid of it, and nothing seemed to be working to fix it. So she ignored it the best she could and continued with her life. Her life felt like it was returning to normal again, and she could stop jumping at shadows when one moment she was sitting at a coffee shop, and the next, a beautiful woman was sitting across from her. Johanna was about to open her mouth to flirt, but it was like it got stuck to the roof of her mouth. This woman was stunning, with long dark hair and sparkling eyes.

"Johanna Constantine?" she said, and immediately Johanna went from intrigued to on edge because anyone who often sought her out like this didn't come with good intentions. "I mean you no harm; I'm merely here to speak to you."

"About what exactly?" Johanna asked. She glanced around, and if anyone else could see this exchange, they didn't pay much attention.

"A mutual friend of ours. I knew him as Oneiros, but you might know him as Morpheus or Dream," she replied easily.

"I'm afraid that Dream and I are not exactly what you would consider friends," Johanna replied bitterly, but this seemed to amuse the woman instead of insulting her.

"No, I suppose he doesn't have many friends, so I wanted to speak to you. I believe the two of you have quarreled recently about the fate of Richard Madoc," she explained, and something in her voice changed. It was a change that Johanna heard from far too many women who told far too similar stories, but she didn't want to assume anything.

"I think you should start at the beginning," Johanna said instead of voicing what she thought was happening.

"That would be a long story, I'm afraid," the woman said. "My name is Calliope. I am a Goddess, a muse to some, and sixty years ago, I was taken captive by a human man named Erasmus Fry, and he kept me. I was to inspire him to write, but I do not give away my talents to people who take away my freedom. So he took it by force." A pit opened up in Johanna's stomach, and it seemed that the same stories even happened to those who weren't even part of this world. "Four years ago, he transferred my captivity to Richard Madoc, whom you met recently. He tried to woo me and ask for my gifts, but I told him I would give him nothing without my freedom. Eventually, he too took them by force."

"You were the woman in the room," Johanna whispered, and Calliope nodded.

"When I saw someone awoken from the sleeping sickness, I knew that Oneiros must have been freed. I summoned him even though our last exchange, when our son passed, was angry. I thought he wouldn't come, but he did," Calliope explained. "I didn't ask for details. I don't want to know exactly what he did, but I know he did something to Richard that made him relinquish his hold on me. I know that when I was free, I told Oneiros to release Richard from that punishment because nothing would be gained from that lingering. He did, and we parted ways. I have learned that you were summoned to try and help Richard, who couldn't remember Oneiros or me and could hardly form a thought. I can only assume that Oneiros told you that you should not help him, and he did not ask politely."

"You could say that," Johanna said, and she hesitated. "All he would tell me was that he deserved it, but he wouldn't tell me what he did. I could feel it in that house; whatever it was was evil, but--"

"--But the idea of Oneiros passing judgment and punishment like that must put you on edge," Calliope finished. "Yes, I can understand how his reaction would seem extreme, but I find it odd that he didn't just tell you what happened. Surely, that would have made this much easier for everyone."

"He said it wasn't his story to tell," Johanna said, which seemed to surprise Calliope. Then she looked a little sad.

"He truly has changed from when he was my husband and my son's father. I hope that someday I can mourn with this Oneiros who has changed so much," Calliope said. "Johanna, I know that his actions seem extreme to you. I know that the idea of judgment like that is terrifying, but I can assure you that he does not regularly do this. The people Oneiros has punished in the real world are few and far between. There are much easier ways to punish ill deeds within the mind."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Johanna asked.

"Because I do believe that Oneiros would consider you a friend of some sort, and he needs more of those. He has been alone for so long, and, as you might understand, all you want for those you love is for them to be less alone. He has emerged from captivity different, the same as I, and I believe your friendship could help him change into an even better version of himself." Calliope pushed herself to her feet and smiled down at Johanna. "I hope that hearing it from me will help per sway you to give him another chance. It hurts too much for him to be around me. I cannot be there for him, but maybe you and a select few others could help him the way I could never." Calliope left the cafe without another word and seemed to vanish from sight. Johanna watched the spot where she had sat for a long time until the tea in her hands was ice cold.

+++

Johanna thought about what Calliope had said for a long time. It was one of those horrifying moments she wished she didn't know because she had convinced herself that Richard couldn't have been holding someone prisoner. There would have been evidence somewhere if he had kept it there, but he was. Not only that, he was violating that woman for the sake of inspiration for books that Johanna thought were bullshit. He was walking around pretending that he was a good man writing strong female characters when all of that came from the captivity and violation of a woman. She wanted to tell all of the people on the internet speculating that Richard was a cad that they were fucking right, but that might give something away. It was clear that Dream didn't want Richard to remember him or Calliope, and she wouldn't be the one to undo that by mentioning either of their names.

It didn't take long to see that she was right, and Nora stopped helping with Richard and his condition. The nurses said they saw minor improvements, but now it looked like he didn't have the will to improve. It was like Nora was the thing he was striving for, even if he didn't understand why he wanted to please her. Johanna didn't say anything else and tried her best to go about her life. There weren't any more signs of Matthew in the air, Dream in the shadows, or Calliope turning up for a chat. There was just her day-to-day life doing her job. She still kept researching the book just in case, and, for some reason, she still didn't do anything with the sand. It was starting to feel precious, and she didn't like that feeling at all.

Johanna thought this was a normal exorcism and that she would have the chance to go home and maybe drink herself to sleep when the demon looked her dead in the eye.

"If you want to save the girl, stop speaking," it said. It was probably a trick; she knew it was a trick, but Johanna hesitated just enough to keep the demon bound but not actively being dragged back down to Hell. "Smart girl."

"I'm not going to wait all fucking day for you to say what you mean," Johanna snapped.

"My Lord is looking to weaken Lord Morpheus, and you are someone who is connected to him. You are someone that could get close enough to hurt him or even trap him again," the demon explained. "If you help us trap him, if you help us kill him, then My Lord will return the girl back to you."

"I don't know what girl you're talking about," she said, but the demon laughed as she lied through her teeth.

"You think we don't speak of the sorcerer trying to save the little girl from Hell? You think we didn't laugh about your fuckup, Constantine?" the demon said. It wasn't good that it knew her name, but considering that she was apparently infamous in Hell was still something she hadn't considered in all her years of exorcising demons.

"The Lord of Hell is the Lord of Lies; why would I make any sort of deal with Her when I know what Her word is worth?" Johanna asked. She didn't know if this demon or anyone else knew that Lucifer had tried to go back on her deal with Dream when they fought for the helm and his freedom, but it seemed like something that she wouldn't want them to know. The demon bared its teeth and hissed at her, but Johanna decided that telling this demon, and likely all of Hell, that Dream managed to outsmart Lucifer was not the move to make here. Something was already going on between them, and putting herself in the middle seemed like a very bad idea.

"You would dare doubt Her word?" the demon asked.

"I know better than to make deals with those with no reason to keep up their end," Johanna replied. "If you want to get to Lord Morpheus, your Lord will have to find another way because it won't be through me." Even as she said the words, even as Johanna knew that this was the right decision, there was still the nagging doubt in the back of her mind that she could get Astra back. Maybe they would keep up their end of all of this and just let her go if Johanna helped deliver Dream to them. Wasn't she worth more than him? The demon must have been the hesitation because it laughed and continued to laugh as she threw it back to Hell. When it finally vanished, Johanna collapsed to her hands and knees. It felt like she had just fought that thing for far longer, and it had taken a lot out of her to finish it after that conversation. She wondered if that was the point, and then she would have been more vulnerable.

For two days, she sat on the conversation with the demon and the idea that Lucifer knew who she was and that Johanna had a connection to Dream. That was enough of a mindfuck, but the nightmare of Astra being dragged from her played over in her mind again and again; it seemed to follow her like a waking nightmare, and Johanna wondered if this was Dream trying to punish her. On the third night, she lay down, closed her eyes, and pictured Dream in her mind. It was as close to calling him as she could do right now.

+++

Johanna blinked and realized she was standing in the club and hadn't summoned Dream; she was having the nightmare about Astra. However, there wasn't anyone nearby, and she didn't feel drawn to the room where she knew the demon was. Instead, she turned around and saw Dream standing across the room. He wasn't glaring at her but didn't seem pleased to see her.

"I am busy, Constantine, so whatever you need to say, please say it so I may move on with my duties," he said. Johanna wanted to lash out at him, screaming that she was here trying to help him, but that wouldn't help anyone.

"You're going to want to interrupt me, and I'm going to tell you right now that you shouldn't," Johanna said, and he narrowed his eyes. He didn't say anything, which she took to mean that she could continue. "Not long after I got paid for the Richard Madoc job when I told them that he did something terrible, but the effects would eventually wear off, someone came to see me while I was getting some tea. She said she was named Calliope and told me exactly what Madoc did and why you felt the need to punish him the way you did. I can also understand why you would want to hurt him, but the idea of you passing judgment on us, on anyone, scares the fuck out of me." Dream cringed a little when she said Calliope's name, but he didn't say anything to stop her from talking.

"Not long after that," Johanna continued, "a demon stopped me from sending it to Hell by saying it could help me get Astra back. It told me that Lucifer herself could help me get Astra back." Dream looked like he was about to say something, but Johanna held up a hand to silence him. "I know, I didn't believe them, but I thought you should know that my end of the deal would have concerned you."

"Concerned me," Dream repeated. He looked resigned and not at all surprised to hear this information. She wasn't sure if it was worse than he was or wasn't surprised. "What did they want you to do?"

"They knew that we are connected in some way, and they wanted me to use that connection to weaken or trap you in some way. In exchange for that, they said they would release Astra and let her free."

"You considered it," Dream said, and Johanna shrugged because there really wasn't any denying it.

"Not out loud, but I did think about it; I would do just about anything to get that girl back," she said.

"But not hand them me," Dream finished. He was standing a lot closer than he was a moment ago, and he was just as overwhelming as he had been from the moment they had locked eyes that night.

"No, I turned them down, but I thought you should know that they are keeping an eye on those you give any attention to, and someone else could be tempted," Johanna explained. Her heart was pounding as she stared into those galaxy eyes. "It fucking terrifies me, the thought that you were passing judgment on me because I know exactly how you would judge me in the end."

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, Johanna Constantine, about how I would judge you if it ever came to that. However, rest assured that even those that spend time in my presence and willingly give my time, I would not judge them now the way I would have even before my captivity," Dream explained.

"Calliope said it changed you. Is that one of the ways it changed you?" she asked.

"I'm listening, or at the very least, I am trying to," Dream replied as he looked her up and down. "Thank you for telling me about this, Constantine. You did not have to, and I know it must have been tempting to try to bring her back. If there were a way, I would have told you the moment I saw your nightmare."

"Yeah," Johanna looked down and shoved her hands into her jacket pocket, "I had a feeling that was the case, but I couldn't be sure until I heard the words, I guess." She looked up at him and wondered if this was a good idea if being near him was going to be the death of her, and if she even cared. "If you have the time, you should stop by some of my calmer dreams from time to time." It was an olive branch that she wouldn't be surprised if he threw it back in her face, but this eternal being still found a way to surprise her.

"I'll keep that in mind," Dream replied. The dream ended, and Johanna woke up feeling rested for the first time in a long time.

Things didn't exactly go back to normal from there. Johanna didn't see Dream in her dreams for days at a time, but they also didn't feel as empty as they did when he was missing as well. There was something different. She also was rethinking how she was approaching all of this. There were some things that she couldn't wrap her head around some things, and maybe that was something she needed to deal with alone. Calliope told her what Richard had done, but Johanna still wasn't sure what the right punishment was. She knew what it felt like to want revenge and justice and that the path toward that isn't linear. She could only imagine that the path was even less linear when you weren't bound to the constraints of a single human life.

Dream joined her for a conversation days after they had talked and didn't say much, but he did say a few things that she took an interest in. One of them was that there was someone else he was seeing also located somewhere on Earth. She didn't know if this other person was mortal since he seemed to refer to her as one of his few mortal acquittances, but she also wasn't sure what else was running around out there. She also thought about the small jar of sand she was still carrying around and the book of spells she knew very well these days. If she wanted to, she could probably find a way to at least make Dream's life a lot harder, and the fact that she wasn't didn't feel like a moral victory. Instead, it felt like she was still hiding something from him.

"Could you come back to the real world with me today?" Johanna asked as they wandered through the Dreaming. He wasn't close enough to touch, but there wasn't a lot of space between them either.

"Why?" Dream asked.

"There is something I need to show you, and it can only happen there," she replied. Dream frowned and spent some time thinking about it. He could say no, and she would have to try again on another night.

"Very well, you can show me what you want to show," Dream said. Johanna nodded and was glad she had chosen a night where she had fallen asleep completely clothed on the couch to ask Dream this question. Not that she would ask him to come when she was naked when things were so awkward between them right now. The dream passed without much else happening, and before she realized it, Johanna was waking up. She blinked up at her ceiling and sat up. Dream stood across her room, his hands in his jacket pockets, watching her carefully.

"Stay here," she said. It took a minute for the feeling to get back into her legs; they were a little numb from sleeping on the couch, but she managed to stumble into her bedroom. The vial of sand was close by, and she picked it up. This was the most powerful weapon she had against Dream, maybe the only thing that could stop him; a piece of an Endless could do real damage, and she was going to give it back. Johanna hoped that she wasn't a fucking idiot for this. She walked back into the room, and Dream tensed when he saw what was in her hand.

"How did you get that?" he asked.

"You would leave them behind when you would leave. I saw them on my floor and just leaned down to pick them up. I'm not even sure where the compulsion came from," Johanna explained.

"You saw how dangerous that sand was to humans," he warned.

"I did, which is why the top of this vial is warded. I never interacted with the sand long enough to get any sort of effect, and the amounts were so small that nothing really happened. This is all collected from multiple visits between us," Johanna explained.

"And what will you do with it now, Constantine?" Dream asked. He reverted to her last name when he was angry or afraid; she wasn't sure which one Dream was at that moment.

"I know how important a piece of a person is," she said as she looked at the vial in her hands. "A strand of hair, some spit, pieces of the body are power pieces in magic and can be used to do great damage or control on someone or something. In the same way that names have power, bodies have even more power because our bodies carry life. It's why so much dark magic needs so many pieces of the body; it takes a lot of life to do that magic. The last time pieces of you were around in the mortal plane, an innocent woman died, and something else happened. All of the world woke up from the same dream of destruction, yet there was no destruction that seemed like something that might be connected to you. If pieces of human bodies are powerful, then one could only imagine that pieces of one of the Endless are even more powerful." Dream's hands were clenched at his sides, and she wondered if he was about to snap her neck. It was necessary, though, that he knew that she knew exactly what she was giving up. Johanna stepped forward and held the vial out for him to take.

"What is this?" Dream asked.

"I helped you recover your sand once before; I suppose this is just me doing a version of that again," Johanna explained. She didn't say how she was giving up a powerful weapon against him; she didn't say how holding onto a piece of the Dream Lord could grant some insane form of dark magic; she didn't say any of that because Dream probably knew exactly what that small amount of sand could do. Neither of them moved like he wasn't sure that she would snatch it back or if this was a trap, but eventually, Dream reached forward and took the vial from her hand. He tensed again like he was waiting for something, but nothing happened. He pulled his bag out and poured the small amount of sand inside.

"He told me that I leave the sand behind when I am with him as well," Dream said.

"Your other lover?" Johanna asked, and he nodded. She laughed a little, and he frowned. "No, it's sweet; you're literally leaving pieces of yourself behind with the people you're sleeping with. Some might call that romantic." Something about that sentence seemed to snap all the tension in the room, and Dream finally relaxed.

"Why do I feel like you aren't one for romance, Johanna Constantine?" he said.

"Who has the fucking time for romance?" Johanna replied. Dream shook his head as he held the vial for her to return. That was surprising; she expected him to shatter it and throw it away.

"Could you make another one?" he asked.

"Another one of these?" she repeated, and he nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't that hard, but why?" It took a moment, but then it clicked. "Ah, your gentleman caller, you want him to have a way to collect the sand and protect himself as well."

"You should continue to have one as well if I'm going to continue to leave the sand behind. At least I'll know it's going to a safe place," Dream replied. That was a level of trust she wasn't expecting from him, but Johanna wasn't about to throw it in his face, not when they had just made so much progress. She was about to ask Dream when he wanted the vial done when he stepped forward and directly into her space. "You continue to confound me, Johanna Constantine."

"Well, I wouldn't want to be boring," Johanna said.

"Certainly not," Dream said as he leaned down and kissed her. This wasn't where she was expecting the night to go, but it wasn't something she didn't want to happen. Sleeping with Dream was an experience that she very much enjoyed, and it was something that she wanted to continue even after all of the harsh words they had shared. Dream seemed to agree as he walked her backward until her back hit the wall. Johanna gasped against his mouth, and Dream moved to kiss along her jawline and to her neck. He was going to leave another bruise that would be impossible to hide, but she wasn't trying to stop him either. If anything, Johanna was pulling him closer and moaning softly.

Johanna pulled Dream back to her mouth as he used his inhuman strength to pick her up and easily press her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, but he was holding her up like she didn't weigh anything. Johanna could feel how hard Dream was between the layers of clothing, but even the slow grind they were doing through their clothes felt incredible. It really was unfair how good at sex this man was.

"Unfair, she says," Dream said into her mouth, and Johanna realized that she had mumbled the last part out loud.

"When you've been around for as long as humanity has existed, I would hope your talent is above what an average human can do," Johanna said back, but the biting snark was dulled by how breathy her voice was and how close to begging she was. Dream chuckled against her lips again, and Johanna groaned in frustration. "Will the king decide to touch me finally, or am I going to have to finish this myself?"

"You'll do no such thing," Dream said as he bit her lower lip. One moment, they were pressed against the wall, and the next, they were on the floor of her flat, and they were both frantically trying to unbutton her pants while still kissing. Dream finally got his hand between her legs, and it wouldn't take much after a dry spell. Johanna's entire world was nothing but Dream of the Endless recently, so the idea of fucking anyone else hadn't even occurred to her. So she hadn't gotten off since the last time she had fucked Dream before the two of them got into the fight. She was wound up tight; she could admit that, so it only took a twist of his talented fingers for her to cry out. Dream was apparently not in one of his moods where he wanted to make her come so many times that Johanna went a little out of her mind; she was fine to pull him back into another kiss and make out as she enjoyed the afterglow.

"Don't be a stranger," Johanna told him as Dream got up to leave.

"I will see you as soon as I am able to," Dream replied. He was gone in a whirl of sand, and Johanna carefully took the time to collect the tiny pieces of Dream left behind even though her legs felt like jelly.

+++

Dream was busy; he had other things to do, so she didn't bother him with the information that she had finished the other vial for his other lover, who was apparently a man. Johanna considered herself a rather smart person, so she decided to try and find this person herself because she wanted to know what else otherworldly was running around. It was her job to know these things, or at least that was the justification she used when she began to look.

There was an obvious choice, and that was the man who was meeting Dream every 100 years, her ancestor figured out. There was a drawing of them in her journals, but it seemed that Lady Constantine couldn't find Dream or the man again in her lifetime. However, she looked, and she looked a lot. The location had to be important somehow because, otherwise, meeting there over and over again would be risky. It was a designated spot between them, so it must have been important somehow. It was initially going to be demolished, but then someone petitioned to have it designated as a landmark. It had worked very recently but had fallen to ruin as the city eventually devised ways to restore the building.

Johanna approached the White Horse and stood outside the fencing as she looked everything over. It was easy to find a place to slip between in so she could go into the building and look around. She liked exploring old buildings because the previous occupants' memories and ghosts lingered in both bad and good ways. It gave them character that these new builds didn't have, and there was so much to be learned from old buildings. This one was falling apart and in dire need of some help. However, there wasn't anything that seemed to scream a meeting between two immortal creatures.

After many hours of exploring and coming up with nothing, Johanna exited the White Horse. There was some interesting graffiti, including some indicating that she should follow an arrow to a different location. It was late at night, so everything was closed down, but the New Inn was nearby and within walking distance. It was a little on the nose, but she supposed that a creature that had been around as long as this one had would eventually have enough money to buy land even in England. She wanted to go into the pub with information, so it would be best to figure out something before going in.

Johanna dug into the petition the next day to make the White Horse a landmark. It came from a local university classroom and looked like something they did as a project. It was a strange thing to pick to petition the city; however, it was a somewhat random location, but Johanna noted it. She also looked into who owned the New Inn and saw that it was an anonymous benefactor who lived somewhere in Scottland and might not even exist. However, Johanna knew she wasn't exactly perfect at finding false identities and instead continued to look into the New Inn. The current manager was a normal-looking elderly man who had run the thing for many years and seemed to employ a few of his children and grandchildren.

Hidden in the paperwork of the building was the fact that there was a flat above the pub. It wasn't hidden, but it also wasn't something that was being advertised. It looked like it was the only flat and it wasn't the man who managed the pub who lived there. It took some time, but eventually, she found the name of the man who lived in the flat: a history teacher named Rob Golding. Rob had no social media but a picture on the university website and a distinct-looking face. While the drawing wasn't very good, it was clear that this was the man Dream had met up with every 100 years since at least the 1600s, if not earlier.

The next day, Johanna made her way to the pub in the early evening, long after classes would have ended, and found Rob Golding grading papers and drinking a pint like he didn't have a care in the world. There was a good chance that he wouldn't cause a scene since there were other people here, but Johanna had a few things on her that might work if this Rob turned out to be dangerous. She walked across the room and sat at his table without asking for permission.

"I'm not looking for any company--" Rob started as he looked up and stared at her. His face went through a complicated expression that Johanna couldn't put a name on, and he also went very pale. "He said the resemblance was uncanny, but I didn't think he was being serious."

"And who might you be referring to?" Johanna asked.

"I think you know exactly who I'm referring to, Lady Constantine," Rob replied. So it turned out that Dream of the Endless was a bit of a gossip about who he was sleeping with. That was amusing, and she smiled at him.

"Sounds like you and I have a lot to chat about. Shall we order a round?" she asked.

"I don't think this is the right place for this conversation. If I ask you up to my room, do you promise not to try and kill me?" he asked.

"Not unless you do something to provoke it," Johanna replied with a shrug. Rob nodded, drained his pint, gathered his papers, and walked toward the lone staircase across the room. Johanna followed as she tried to see what exactly this man was, but she couldn't tell. If she passed him on the street, she would have thought he was just a normal human, but he was centuries old as far as she could tell, or he was somehow reborn. Rob opened the door to his flat and let Johanna inside. It was a modest place, but she could see small pieces of history everywhere. Some first edition books that a teacher like him couldn't afford, antique pieces of furniture that looked well-loved, and other things.

"A drink or tea?" Rob offered.

"Neither," Johanna replied, not trusting this man just yet. Rob didn't seem insulted and instead made himself a cup of tea and gestured for Johanna to join him at a small table in the kitchen. "What are you?" she asked because that was what she needed to know before she could even begin to relax around this man.

"Hob Gadling," he replied, "and I'm just a human man who can't seem to die." When he didn't elaborate on that, Johanna just stared at him.

"You can't seem to die," she repeated, and he nodded. "How does that happen, exactly?"

"I thought Dream was doing it for years, but he told me recently that it's actually his sister that is keeping me from dying."

"And why would Death decide to keep you from dying?" Johanna asked, and Hob grinned.

"Isn't that the question? Dream said it was for a bet he made with his sister, but I suspect that she thought he needed a friend, so she made one for him," Hob explained. He sounded far too calm about all of this, but Johanna had a feeling that the revelation that he was being kept alive due to a bet was probably a nasty conversation between him and Dream. She tilted her head to the side and studied Hob. There didn't appear to be anything remarkable about him, and she could only imagine that he wasn't anything remarkable whatever year he was granted immortality. Dream wouldn't gel well with other royalty. "You're sleeping with him?" Hob asked.

"Oh yes, does that bother you?" Johanna replied.

"Not at all," Hob said without missing a beat. If he was lying, then he was very good at it, and if the way he reacted to her was anything to go by, Hob was not a good liar. "Dream didn't have anyone for a long time; he barely acknowledged that he had me, and we only met for one night every 100 years, so it's good that he has someone else so he doesn't become a mopey bastard again."

"'Again,' he says, was he always like this?" she asked. She was not above a bit of gossip either, but it's not very often that you meet the other person in the relationship, and they really are all right with you being there as well.

"Oh no, he was much worse when I met him," Hob revealed, and Johanna tried to think about what that must have been like. It must have shown on his face because Hob chuckled into his tea. "I've been immortal since 1389, so I can assure you he's a very different man from the one I met." The smile faded from Hob's face, and he looked down at his tea. "What he went through changed him, and it was for the better, but---"

"--but you still wish it didn't happen," Johanna finished. The two of them sat quietly for a moment before she reached into her pocket and pulled out the vial. "Dream leaves behind sand when he leaves, and I know from first-hand experience how dangerous that sand can be. Collecting the sand that he leaves behind in this vial will keep it from affecting you negatively." Hob looked like he wanted to ask, but he took the vial from her and looked it over.

"Thank you, Lady Constantine," Hob replied.

"Johanna is fine," she replied with a wave of her hand. "This has been fascinating, but I do have other things that need to be done." Hob nodded as he went to see her out the door, but he was hesitating about something.

"No one else knows about me, and no one else knows my story except for Dream, and he's not exactly the best at talking to when it comes to human things," Hob said carefully. "Do you think we could meet for tea occasionally? Have a chat and talk freely about everything insane that happens in our lives?" It wasn't a date, and Johanna didn't feel any attraction toward Hob Gadling, but she could only imagine the things he had seen, and she did want to know more about the world. She reached into her pocket and handed him one of her cards.

"I'm sure I can fit you into my schedule," Johanna replied.

Hob wasn't sure why he said that he wouldn't die that day, but that was what he said, and from there, he met the Stranger that would change his life. This mysterious man turned up and told him that he would be back in 100 years so they could have a conversation like it would be easy for him to still be there in 100 years. Hob agreed because there was something about how the Stranger looked at him that made him want to say "yes" and go on with his day.

It took some time for Hob to notice that he wasn't aging. He had always enjoyed life and tried to live it to the fullest, but one day, he realized that all of his friends were complaining about the grey that was beginning to form in their air and the ache of their joints. Hob didn't feel any of that, and when he looked at his hair, he didn't find a single grey hair. There wasn't any evidence that he was aging even a day. He tried to ignore it and say that maybe he was just lucky, but the sideways glances began coming, and he knew this couldn't be ignored. So, one morning, Hob packed all his things and left.

It wasn't hard to travel far enough away to a village where he knew no one and start to live life again. Hob was a hard worker, and he had no trouble finding odd jobs and making money, but the ache that came with age still alluded him, and the people who employed him kept saying how lucky he was to have his youth still. Hob wanted to tell them that he didn't have his youth, that his youth was long beyond him, but it seemed to be lingering because of a chance encounter with a Stranger in a pub, but he saw women burned at the stake for less. So he stayed for as long as he could and moved on again.

It was roughly ten years or so that he could stay in a location before it would become evident that he wasn't aging like everyone else. Fortunately for him, no one else traveled outside their villages, so if one walked far enough, you could run into a whole group of people that might as well exist in another world for all that they knew what happened outside their borders. However, Hob was always keeping an eye on his location and the White Horse because now that he knew that death was alluding to him, he had a date with a Strange man who would maybe explain what happened to him. Hob did worry for his eternal soul, but perhaps that man would have some answers.

The 100 years came far too quickly, and before Hob knew it, he rushed back to the village where he had grown up. There couldn't be anyone who still knew his face, but he kept his head down and ensured no one noticed him. Hob didn't have much in the way of family or friends he left behind; he thought people would have forgotten him by now, but he couldn't take any chances. Not when he was finally finding some success with printing and how it might be the thing to elevate his place in the world, honestly.

The Stranger joined him in the pub and looked the same as he did when they met. Hob asked if he had made a deal with the devil, unsure if he wanted the answer, but the Stranger only wanted an answer from him. He wondered if Hob wanted to keep living, which baffled him. How could anyone not want this gift? There was still so much to see in the world, and he felt he had barely scratched the surface. The Stranger said they would meet in another 100 years, and just like that, the meeting was done. Hob felt unmoored by the entire thing but returned to work.

The following century was fortuitous for him, and Hob couldn't believe this was his life's lot. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that being so out in the open with his fortune was not the way to go, but there would be other ways to deal with that. He hosted royalty and found love for the first time in his life. He found a new way to love when Robyn was born. It was a beautiful thing that he didn't think he would ever experience. This time, Hob went to the White Horse and set up a feast for his Stranger. He didn't know why he needed to do this, but he wanted the Stranger to know he was successful.

The Stranger, it appeared, did not care about money, success, or even the fact that Hob had found love. As soon as he discovered that Hob wanted to live and still loved life, he walked away with a young playwright who had grabbed his attention. Hob wasn't sure what this pit in his stomach was, but it felt horrible. Something ugly was inside him when he saw that this Stranger who hardly spoke a few words to him was talking to this random man in their pub on the night they were supposed to be conversing.

"What is bothering you, my love?" Elenor asked long after he got home that night and when Hob still couldn't shake his terrible mood. That was the first time he had left a meeting with his Stranger in this bad mood. He was unmoored last time, but this time, he was angry and another thing he couldn't put words to.

"I had a meeting with a companion I only see once, very rarely, and instead of speaking with him, he went and spoke to someone else," Hob explained, but even when he said the words out loud, it all sounded rather silly to him. This couldn't be the thing that was bothering him, and Elenor, in all of her wisdom, looked profoundly unimpressed by him.

"Something like that would not leave you this cross, so why does it bother you so much? Explain it to me?" she tried.

"I have tried to get him to speak to me more, but he has always held back, but he went off and spoke to this other man without concern. Why does he get into conversation so easily when I have to fight and wait for a single sentence?" Hob said.

"If your Stranger were a woman, I would say you were jealous, but it must be something else," she said, but that word was like falling through ice on a frozen pond. Jealousy was the perfect word to explain how Hob felt, but he couldn't let Elenor know that he was so painfully jealous that he didn't get the attention of his Stranger. That was a side to himself that he kept locked away, and she didn't need to know it.

"It's done, and I won't be seeing him again for a long time, so it doesn't matter. Please, tell me about the rest of your day," he said effortlessly, distracting her and moving Elenor away from the conversation he was too afraid to have with himself. He couldn't be jealous of the playwright's attention from the Stranger because that would mean he yearned for that attention to be focused on himself, which was something that Hob couldn't say aloud.

+++

To never die meant to lose, and Hob didn't know why he never realized that. It was so easy to fall in love with Elenor and have Robyn. It was easy to think that this could be his life going forward and everything would be fine, but it wasn't. Death didn't come for him, but death came for his family and took them away in the blink of an eye. One moment, Hob had everything he wanted, and things couldn't be better. The next, he was holding Elenor's cold hand in his own, weeping by her bedside as the doctor explained that the baby didn't make it either. One moment, he was teaching Robyn how to walk, and the next, he was getting news that his son was dead at the far too young age of twenty.

It was easy to fall into the darkness then. It was easy to take all of the fortunes he had gathered these last few centuries and burn them all with the passion that he once loved those he had now lost. It took no effort at all to fall into a haze of merely eating and drinking enough to survive and then deciding that even that wasn't enough when the money ran out. Hob learned what it meant to die but never die from starvation, and he learned what it meant to die but never die from dehydration. He learned these lessons the hard way and the worst possible ways, but it was hard to care one way or another. It was not that he wanted to die or stop living; he was just tired, and right now, Hob decided that he had earned a rest.

It seemed that the rest he so wanted to take was far too long, and he lost track of time. Hob had tried to ensure he stayed in one location only briefly because he knew what would happen if he did. He knew the outcome could be bad if he didn't keep moving, but Hob lost track of time in his haste to rest and mourn what he had lost. Apparently, he had been living in the same place for forty years, and the locals had realized that he wasn't aging. Hob had seen what these people did to women who had done far less than he had, yet he still forgot how cruel man could be.

Hob also learned what it felt like to drown.

+++

Hob thought his Stranger looked a little smug when he sat down and told him how down on his luck he was. Something about the fact that Hob didn't want to die kept this Stranger talking to him every 100 years. No matter what happened, Hob didn't want to die, so he was fine with everything terrible that had happened. He would get back on his feet, as he always did, but the Stranger almost looked disappointed that Hob didn't want to die. That was morbid as hell, but he tried not to think about it, and before he knew it, the meeting was over, and it was another 100 years before he got to have that conversation again.

The world got bigger, and the world got smaller. Hob was much more careful about the names he gave and made sure to make up a lineage for himself. He could always claim to be his son or grandson to those who might see him age. Hob avoided all the painters and artists who wanted him to sit for him. He knew better than anyone that art was forever, and he couldn't let his face be plastered all over for people to see. The shipping world was the way to go for business, and even though it left a bit of a bad taste in his mouth to sell people, Hob told himself that this was what everyone else was doing, so it must be fine. The entire world couldn't possibly be that corrupt.

It was easy to turn a blind eye to everything as his success grew and Hob returned to his Stranger. It was different when he told his Stranger that he was in the shipping business, and he was told, in no uncertain terms, to get out of the slave trade. Hob knew that he was on the wrong side of history; deep down, he knew that, but it was easy to think it would be fine if everyone else were doing it. However, it was also the longest and most in-depth conversation he had ever had with his Stranger. For the first time, it felt like they weren't just random companions that met once a century; perhaps they were friends. In fact, this Stranger that Hob didn't even know the name of might be his only true friend, and wasn't that a depressing thought?

Lady Johanna Constantine was an impressive woman, and Hob got to use some of the many skills he gained as a soldier to protect his Stranger. The Stranger claimed he didn't need to be protected, but Hob was still proud of how he stood up for this man. He was also sure he was dealing with some sort of devil when he blew sand into the Lady's face, and her eyes rolled back into her skull. His Stranger reminded him that while he cannot be killed, he can be captured, and he would do well to remember that. Hob had been lucky all these centuries, and any time spent imprisoned was short-lived. He tossed the terrible-looking picture of them into the fire, and they wandered off into their lives yet again.

The next century brought innovations so quickly that Hob felt he needed help to keep up. The world was spinning so fast, and time was moving so fast that he sometimes felt like he was just stumbling through this entire thing and barely walking. He made sure to avoid anyone with the name Constantine and also kept his head down. The wars continued, and everything got bigger, and everything got smaller. It was an excellent time to start to explore, and Hob saw corners of the world that he had only ever dreamed of. It was amazing, and the best part of life was experiencing new things. He didn't know how, after all of this time, he was still amazed by the small and big things in the world.

The following century came, and his Stranger revealed details about a whore in the tavern that he couldn't possibly know just by looking at her. Hob had spent the last 500 years walking this world, and he felt confident in a few things, but he was confident that this Stranger was not here for the simple yes or no question about whether or not he wanted to die. Perhaps it was the alcohol, the setting, and the changes happening so fast that he couldn't keep up; Hob couldn't begin to say what made him tell this Stranger that he was seeking friendship. It was a mistake, and the moment he said it, Hob knew that he had misstepped. The Stranger, as inhuman as he was, did not take kindly to the idea of being a friend with someone as lowly as Hob. He stormed out of the tavern and into the darkness, with Hob swearing loudly about how he had just ruined the only consistent thing in his life.

The following century was somehow the longest year in Hob's very long life because the date in 1989 felt like it was hanging his head like an executioner's axe. The world was just lingering on him, waiting to see if his Stranger would turn up at the White Horse like he had every century before. Hob had to believe that even a being like his Stranger couldn't be that proud. Surely, the man was curious if Hob wanted to live or die; that had to be enough to draw him out for even a brief conversation, and maybe Hob could figure out a way to apologize that didn't come across, like begging for forgiveness.

The sleeping sickness settled over the world like the black plague or the Spanish flu, but something about it felt different. Hob had lived through many plagues and sicknesses in his life; he thought he had seen it all, but he hadn't ever seen anything like this sickness. While sicknesses had new names and explanations now, they hadn't changed since he was born. Infections had always been infections; people just didn't know what an infection was until they put a word to it. However, Hob didn't know what this sickness was, and he hadn't ever seen anything like it. When the doctors of the world seemed just as puzzled, and no one could determine why people wouldn't wake up and why some couldn't sleep, it felt inhuman.

More than anything, Hob wished he had a way to reach out to his Stranger because he could feel that something wasn't right. He had been alive for far too long and experienced too much of the world; he could tell that something had changed in the early 1900s. He thought about trying to find someone from the Constantine family. He was sure they were still running around somewhere, and if they were anything like the Lady, they would have a keen eye for this sort of thing, but Hob didn't want to risk someone turning on him. So he kept his ear to the ground and tried to help where he could. Hob went to medical school and got his degree to help treat the sick because even if he got ill, he wouldn't die.

The sleeping sickness didn't go away, and the world seemed to just settle into the realization that it was here and this was the new normal. It was unsettling, in a way, to watch the way humanity would just adapt to a fundamental shift like that. Hob supposed that fundamental shifts in humanity were happening constantly; they didn't seem to notice the big picture as he did. They couldn't see the effects of industrialization or how the world was changing around them and not for the better because their lives were too short, but Hob could, and he ached to tell them all about the consequences of their actions. He couldn't, so he tried to help and teach where he could.

+++

It was 1989, and Hob felt he was being stood up for a date, which was almost embarrassing. While his Stranger had been a little late a few times before, he hadn't been this late, and the White Horse staff gave him a side eye and pitiful expression. It seemed that his worst nightmare, the only consistent thing in his life, was gone, and then he found out that the pub was due to be torn down. This felt like the thing that was going to break him, and, for the first time, Hob wondered if maybe it was time to die.

That thought didn't last long, and he pulled himself back up shortly after. If there was one advantage to living as long as him, you tended to have little fortunes hidden away, but even he didn't have the money to buy the White Horse and keep it alive. The building was old, and he would devise another way to preserve it. Instead, Hob bought a nearby pub with a flat above it and installed himself as the owner but in a distant capacity. His family in the North owned the building as Hob worked here in the city. That was the eventual plan anyway, but these things took time. So, he stayed out of sight for as long as possible and worked on getting certifications to become a teacher. The fact he taught history often made him laugh.

It was the late 2010s when Hob finally moved into the flat above the New Inn, spray painted an arrow in case a man with dark hair ever came looking, and began to teach the next generation how not to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors. He figured he could get away with more than twenty years here if he said that he got cosmetic surgeries done and maybe added some grey to his hair and used the makeup skills he learned from drag queens to give himself some wrinkles.

The day the sleeping sickness lifted, Hob felt like something in the world had shifted back into place, but he couldn't put a name to it. However, things felt better than they had in over a century, and he wasn't about to question it now. Instead, he continued living and keeping his head down so no one would bother him. After all, he was enjoying teaching and wanted to stay and teach for as long as possible. Hob settled into the New Inn to grade some papers with a pint on the table like he did on a fairly regular basis and went about his afternoon. Vaguely, he heard the door open, and despite it being an off time of day, the inn did well, so it made sense that people would come in. When Hob saw someone walking across the room in his direction out of the corner of his eye, he still didn't think about it. Someone was going to take a seat nearby. It wasn't until he felt someone watching that Hob looked up and saw a familiar face looking down at him.

His Stranger looked both the same and very different. Something in how he was carrying himself made it look like he was agitated and would take off immediately. It was a strangely fragile look to him, and Hob wondered for the first time if there was something out there that could hurt his Stranger. It made a surge of protectiveness that he hadn't felt since Robyn was alive flow through his veins. If someone hurt his friend, then Hob was going to be the one to punish that person. However, there was also something softer about his Stranger. He was smiling and looked like he was about to tell a joke. He seemed almost happy, which Hob didn't know what to do with. All of the time he had known his Stranger, he hadn't ever known him to be happy or joking. The man once ran away after pitching a temper tantrum because Hob implied that he might be lonely and need a friend. Now he was sitting there with a smirk and a smile like there was a punchline that Hob didn't understand. A million things went through his mind, but that smirk was the thing that made Hob hesitate when it came to what he wanted to say.

"You're late," Hob said and then wondered if this was going to be the thing that made his Stranger run away yet again. Hob wasn't sure if he could handle losing the only consistent thing in his life for the second time. However, his Stranger didn't run away after throwing a temper tantrum. If anything, he looked just as amused as before, if not more so.

"It seems I owe you an apology," his Stranger said, and Hob had to tap into centuries of living to school his features, so he didn't react to that sentence. "I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting." It wasn't a direct apology, but the acknowledgment that they were friends made Hob smile. That must have been enough for his Stranger, who took his seat at the table like this was any sort of meeting they had over the centuries.

"You heard correctly," Hob replied after a beat of silence. "It's also impolite to never tell your friends your name over the entire duration of your friendship." For all of the time that they had known each other, Hob never thought he would be in the position to ask his Stranger for a name. Their dynamic always felt too strained, but something about how the Stranger looked at him made him feel brave. If he didn't get anything else out of this conversation, but his Stranger's name, the wait for the next meeting wouldn't feel so long. His Stranger frowned and looked a little confused.

"I've never told you what to call me," his Stranger stated, but it was still framed a bit like a question. Hob nodded, and his Stranger shook his head a little. "My sister would find that very amusing, and the next time I see her, I will have to inform her of this little oversight. I'm sure she'll laugh." Hob was about to ask about the sibling when his Stranger leaned forward a little and stared directly into Hob's eyes. There were galaxies in those eyes, and Hob swore that he could get lost in them if he wanted to. "I have many names, but many call me Morpheus, the King of Dreams, and my friends and family just call me Dream, Dream of the Endless."

Hob blinked because he had studied his fair share of ancient history, and if his Stranger was telling the truth, he had been meeting essentially a god for drinks every 100 years. As several things began to fall into place, a million more questions started to form in Hob's mind. However, there was something about the way that Dream watched the door that made him realize that this wasn't the best place to have this conversation.

"I own the flat above this place," Hob said, and Dream tilted his head to the side like he didn't quite understand the implication. "That seems like a better place for this conversation, don't you think?"

"I suppose so," Dream replied. Hob paid for his pint and could feel the eyes of the staff watching them as they made their way upstairs. He hadn't brought anyone home all the time he'd been living in the flat, and he was reasonably sure that everyone who worked at the New Inn thought he was some sort of hermit who only emerged to teach the next generation. Dream followed like a silent shadow, and when Hob opened the door to the flat to let him in, Dream began to look around.

Hob tried to keep the hints of his life to a minimum; the last thing he wanted was anyone figuring out that he couldn't die, but there were a few things that didn't quite add up. For example, he owned a few too many first-edition books for someone who made his salary, and the furniture looked well-worn no matter how old it was. Hob didn't have pets anymore because it just led to heartache. It was hard enough maintaining friendships when one doesn't age, but seeing dogs and cats pass away in what felt like the blink of an eye was harder in many ways. This was the third time he'd sworn off getting pets, and he was sure that as long as Dream let him keep living, he'd return on that promise again someday down the line.

"Tea?" Hob asked.

"You should make some for yourself. I have no need for it," Dream replied. Hob made himself some tea and tried to collect his thoughts as he did so. Dream was silently waiting for him on the couch, looking a little out of place since he hadn't removed his overcoat when Hob returned. There was another chair in the room, but distance was the last thing Hob wanted right now. "You have questions."

"So many," Hob said without hesitating. "I guess I wanted to ask why first, though." Dream frowned like he didn't understand the question, so Hob decided it was best to get this out of the way now, or it would hurt worse further down the line. "I have a lot of "whys" that I want to ask you. Why did you choose me to keep alive all of this time? Why did my saying we were friends all those years ago offend you so much? Why did you stay away in 1989?"

"I was arrogant and didn't think I needed anyone, let alone a human friend," Dream replied carefully. "I suppose I looked down on you all as a whole, and I didn't think there was a chance anyone could be worthy of friendship with me when it was something I didn't think I needed. So when you said we were friends, and I was lonely, it was accurate, and I didn't want to accept the fact that it was accurate at the time. However, things have changed significantly, and now I can admit both of those things freely. May I ask you a question now?"

"Is it whether or not I want to live? Because the answer is very much yes, I want to keep living," Hob replied.

"No, I don't think I need to ask that anymore. I believe if you truly did not want to live anymore, then you would inform me of this of your own accord," Dream replied. "I want to know why there is an arrow pointing from where we used to meet to this new one. It seemed too deliberate to be a coincidence."

"It's not," Hob said as he drank his tea and tried to ignore that he could feel Dream observing him. "I own both places, but I couldn't rebuild our place, so I made a new place. The arrows were just me being hopeful that you'd come back one day and want to meet up with me again. I guess I hoped you'd want the answer to your question, if nothing else." Hob turned and looked at Dream. "You basically apologized for being late. Did something happen, or were you just that mad at me?" Dream tensed up, and Hob wondered if this conversation was about to get cut extremely short. The silence that followed was louder than anything Dream could have said, and Hob was about to tell him that he didn't have to answer the question if he didn't want to.

"I didn't miss our meeting intentionally. As for the details, it's not something I would like to share at this moment," Dream replied. Hob remembered the meeting when they met Lady Constantine and how Dream reminded him that while he couldn't die, he could be captured, and he wondered if something out there managed to catch him. He wondered if that was why, even though he seemed softer and more approachable, there was something frayed around the edges and even fragile about Dream.

"I'll find out the answer when we meet in 2089, I suppose," Hob said offhandedly.

"No," Dream said without hesitating, "we don't need to wait that long to meet again. I would like to meet with you again, Hob Gadling, if you're amenable to it. I know you have many questions, but I have many things that need to be done because of my absence. I cannot stay, but I would like to return soon so we can continue, and I can answer more of your questions."

"Yes," Hob said, trying to mask how badly he wanted this, and it was a little pathetic how badly he wanted a friend. However, there wasn't anyone he could talk to about this long life that didn't end with him getting thrown into a padded cell. Dream silently nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He took a few steps from the couch but made no move to leave the flat, even though he looked ready to go.

"I hope to see you soon, Hob," Dream said. There was a whirl of sand, and then Dream was gone, vanishing right before Hob's eyes. In retrospect, he felt a bit like an idiot. Apparently, he was friends with the Sandman, and the things that he did to Lady Constantine all of those years ago made a lot more sense. Hob knelt at the spot where Dream once stood; there were a few grains of sand left on his floor, but he didn't feel the need to clean them up. Instead, Hob left them on the floor, gathered his papers, and set them aside. He had a long night of googling ahead of him, and grading would have to wait.

The absolute rabbit hole that Hob fell down in the next couple of days after Dream visited was nothing short of madness. He knew that something was keeping him alive, and a long time ago, Hob came to terms with the fact that it probably wasn't something that a Christian God would be very fond of. However, now he was finding out that the Christians weren't the ones who had this figured out. Dream was a figure in many fables and tales, and Hob knew better than most people that the origin of myth and legend was often rooted in truth.

Some things in history caught his eye. Hob remembered those years when he thought something was wrong and how the sleeping sickness didn't behave like anything he had ever seen. The timeline made sense, at least on some level, for when Dream could have been missing. If there were someone or someone's absence that could affect the world on such a profound level like that, it would be what was essentially the god of dreaming. That just sent Hob down another rabbit hole because then he started to wonder if someone intentionally unleashed the sleeping sickness on the world with the intention of killing millions. It was like biological warfare, only using the power of gods instead of chemicals.

On some level, he knew that all of this reading was not in his best interests and he should wait for Dream to come and visit again. Then he could ask a million questions and hope one or two would be answers. However, what was the time for something that didn't age and couldn't die? Hob didn't know when Dream would come and visit again, so maybe looking into these things was a good use of his time.

In his many trips across the internet, a familiar last name popped up, and that was how Hob came to find out that the Constantines were alive and well to this day. When he met up with Dream in 1889, before they fought, Dream mentioned that he had worked with Lady Constantine again. It seemed that her legacy lived on, and Hob found the name Johanna Constantine to be someone who specialized in all things magic and occult. He decided that avoiding her was probably the best idea because he didn't think anyone with her specialty would believe he was something worth keeping around.

Hob selfishly taught a section on myth to his students and used them as an excuse to do more research. He even used their reports as a way to find out and cross-check his information. Maybe that was a little unethical, but so was the way history was written by people determined to learn the wrong lessons from it. Hob was in the middle of one of his late-night Google sessions on what an Endless was when there was a knock at his door. No one usually bothered him, and when Hob opened the door, he was surprised to see Dream standing there. When Dream said they would be visiting again, Hob expected months or years to pass between, but it had been a few days, and now he was back.

"Is it a bad time?" Dream asked, and Hob blinked because he had spent the last thirty seconds staring blankly at his friend like an idiot.

"No, not at all; I just wasn't expecting you so soon after our last meeting," Hob replied honestly as he stepped aside to let Dream in. Dream hummed in agreement and strolled into the flat like he didn't have a care in the world. However, Hob was not prepared for company, which meant that his obsessive googling was all over the place, and there was no hiding what he'd been looking up for the last couple of days. He wanted to defend himself and try to say that it wasn't what it looked like, but it was, and lying wouldn't get either of them anywhere. So he let Dream look at all the papers, books, and idiotic Google searches and waited for him to come to his conclusion.

"You've been busy," Dream said casually. If it were anyone else, he'd think he was being made fun of, but Hob had just discovered that Dream might have a sense of humor, so who knew if that was the truth or not?

"I have," Hob replied. "I guess some of it left me with more questions than answers, so I went looking for my own answers. Now I think I made things worse."

"You did, but not as bad as you think," Dream said as he reached down and touched a page in a book detailing Greek myth. There was something sad in his expression for a moment, but then Dream seemed to compose himself again. "This will probably be a long conversation and one that won't be pleasant. Don't people usually drink to make these sorts of things more palatable?"

"Drinking it is," Hob replied. He got them two glasses and the nicest bottle of scotch in his flat. He poured them both generous helpings, and Dream toasted him when Hob raised his glass. He wasn't even sure what question he wanted to ask first, but one thing had been nagging in his mind for centuries. "How are you keeping me alive?"

"I'm not," Dream replied simply. "My sister, Death, is choosing not to give you her gift, so she is the one that controls whether you live or die. I am involved in how you came to have this extended life." He didn't elaborate, and Hob had a feeling that this was one of the things that they needed the drinks for. So he avoided the question and returned it to what Dream was exactly. It turned out that he wasn't exactly a god, but he was something that wasn't exactly of this world. He also had many names, including Morpheus and many others, but he seemed to prefer being called Dream, so that was what Hob called him.

He thought this would be a one-sided conversation, but Dream had plenty of questions of his own. They usually talked about what had changed in the last 100 years and how much had changed in the previous 100 years. Hob answered any questions Dream seemed to have about technology and the world around him. In many ways, it seemed like he didn't know what had happened recently, but he was supposed to be an all-knowing being. Hob decided not to bring that up right now, either.

Instead, he kept both of their glasses full, and before he knew it, they were both more than a little drunk. Hob wasn't sure when they got so close to sitting next to each other on the couch, but it still wasn't close enough to touch. He wanted to touch, but Hob stomped down that urge as hard as he could. This was not the time.

"Why me?" Hob asked long into their conversation. Dream hesitated and appeared to be considering whether or not he wanted to answer that question. Instead, he looked at the glass in his hands and then back up at Hob.

"My sister and I were in the pub that night, and she thought I needed a connection to humanity. We heard you talking about how you weren't going to die, and I bet her that you would be begging for the gift of death within the first century," Dream explained.

"I was given eternal life because of a bet," Hob said. Even if he was sober, that sentence didn't feel like it made complete sense because he always thought there was some grand plan. He thought that maybe something in his life made him special, and that was why his Stranger had given him this gift for so many years. However, that wasn't the case. This was just an ongoing bet with siblings. "This is why you kept asking me if I wanted to die; if I said yes, you would have won the bet." Dream didn't say anything, but Hob wasn't sure what he could say to try and defend something like that. "I think I need you to leave," Hob said before he could think about it too much.

"I understand," Dream replied. He set the glass aside and seemed utterly sober when he stood up. Hob watched him walk toward the door; it appeared that he would leave like a normal person this time instead of in a whirl of magic and sand. Dream hesitated, however, before he walked through the threshold. Hob didn't know what he would say, and it appeared that Dream didn't either. He just walked through the door and closed it behind him like it wasn't a big deal -- like he hadn't thrown Hob's entire existence into question.

Hob finished the bottle that night and had to teach through a wicked hangover. His students didn't take pity on him, and he didn't want their pity.

+++

The world was stranger than Hob ever thought it would be. It should have been obvious, considering he was an immortal man who met with the personification of dreams to discuss whether he wanted to die. However, it was still strange to realize that everything was so much weirder than he even realized. Ever since he realized that a Constantine was running around out there, Hob kept his eye out for weird things, and a bunch of serial killers committing suicide or confessing their crimes was certainly weird. However, he didn't know what it could possibly be, so it wasn't like he could help. So Hob tried to get his students to focus as they gossiped about all of the killers and how they quite literally were meeting for a convention like any other professional or hobby.

He was sitting in the park, minding his own business, when a beautiful woman dressed in all black came over and sat down with him. Hob wanted to tell her to fuck off, he really wasn't in the mood, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that made Hob hold his tongue. She carried herself very similar to Dream, and he remembered that he said his sister was Death.

"I don't want to die," Hob blurted out because he felt like it was essential that he told her this information right away. If she wasn't Death, she would have run away from that outburst, but considering that she just looked at him like he was rather adorable, it was more or less confirmed that this was the personification of Death sitting in front of him.

"That's good to hear," she replied, "and I already knew that, but it is good to hear that you're self-aware about it." She smiled at him, and Hob thought that if this was the last thing that everyone saw when they died, then maybe it wasn't so terrifying. "My brother has been moping for the past few days."

"How can you tell?" Hob said without thinking. He winced, unsure if insulting Dream in front of Death would go over well, but she laughed.

"My brother is an idiot, but he is easy to read once you know where you look, and right now, he's walking around the Dreaming moping," Death replied. "He's moping because he thinks he ruined his relationship with you."

"I'm the product of a bet between the two of you. My entire extended existence is one giant cosmic joke. I feel like I'm allowed to be angry about that," Hob said.

"Are you?" Death asked.

"Am I what?"

"Are you angry?" She didn't give him a chance to answer before moving on with her line of conversation. "It wasn't just that you were in the right place at the right time, Hob. We could have been anywhere in the world at any time during human history, but we were in that tavern when you were sitting there. Not only did you just happen to be sitting there, you also just happened to mention, loud enough for others to hear, that you didn't have any intention of dying. Many little things needed to happen for you to end up sitting here, at this table, with me centuries later."

"I guess I thought it was me for a reason," Hob explained. However, he suddenly realized how egotistical that statement sounded, as if he was somehow special enough to change the course of history simply by existing when billions of people exist daily.

"If you were the wrong person to be denied my gift, I would have given it to you a long time ago, yet here we are," Death said as she gestured to the world around them. "It has been centuries; you've seen many things, and now you have captured the attention of one of the Endless in more than just a petty way. What are you going to do with it?" Hob didn't know, and it seemed that Death wasn't expecting an answer because she stood up. "I have many appointments that I must keep, but it was lovely to see you again, Hob Gadling."

"For what it's worth, I hope I only see you one more time," Hob replied. Death smiled brightly and walked away. One moment, she was there, and the next, she had faded into the world around them. He was alone at a table in a park after conversing with the concept of Death itself.

Hob really did underestimate how weird the world was.

+++

Hob stewed on Dream and Death's words for another day before he decided that he did want to speak to Dream again. However, that wasn't exactly easy to do. Hob had no idea how to get in touch with the Dream King and hadn't ever mastered lucid dreaming in all his time here on Earth. So, he needed to wait for Dream to come back and hope it would happen sooner rather than later. He tried to keep living his everyday life until he realized a raven was following him. Hob was debating what to do about it when he remembered Dream saying something about having a raven as a servant or something. Hob went to the roof of the New Inn and waited. Eventually, the raven landed on the ground and looked at him.

"I have no idea if you can understand me, but I want you to tell Dream that--" Hob started, but the raven was apparently not impressed by him because it scoffed.

"I can understand you. I've been following you and the other one around for days. Between the two of you, he's managed to get rid of me a lot recently," the raven replied. "Oh, I'm Matthew, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Hob said because what the hell else was he supposed to say to the raven that had just introduced himself? He didn't know how much Matthew or anyone else knew about his conversation with Dream, and it was frankly no one's business but theirs. However, he needed to talk to Dream as soon as possible, and getting a message through Matthew seemed much faster than just waiting and hoping for the best. "Could you pass a message along to Dream? And just tell him I need to speak with him?" Matthew managed to look even less impressed with him, which was an expression Hob didn't know you could see on the face of a raven.

"I'll tell him," Matthew said. It seemed the raven wasn't going to stick around for small talk because he flew away moments later. Hob watched him fade into what seemed like nothing and stopped trying to find the logic in any of this. It wouldn't ever happen, and he was only driving himself insane whenever he tried.

+++

Dream turned up at his door that night, which might be the fastest turnaround for anything in their relationship so far. He looked lost for words, so Hob opened the door and wordlessly let him in. There wasn't any booze this time, just tea, which Dream didn't partake in. He sat on the couch and looked profoundly uncomfortable as Hob joined him.

"It freaked me out to think how random all of it was," Hob explained. "I guess I always thought there was some grand reason for me to be the one that gets to live this long. There had to be a reason it was me, and that is so egotistical of me. Even so, I wrapped so much of these last few centuries in the idea that there had to be a reason you chose me that when you told me that it was all because of a bet? It kind of shook my entire worldview, and I didn't know how to deal with it."

"At the time, it didn't matter to me if you ended up hurt at the end of the bet," Dream said after a beat of silence. "I do now." The tension in the room broke, and Hob felt like he could breathe again. He was about to make a moment when Dream began to speak again. "I told you in 1789 to be careful because while you couldn't be killed, you could be captured. That applies to me as well. In 1916, I was captured, and I did not escape until recently." Just saying those words seemed enough because Dream told him everything. He explained how he was captured and held naked in that prison for so many years. He explained how his tools were stolen and how his realm crumbled when he finally returned.

Dream confirmed what Hob thought: that the sleeping sickness was brought on because he was not in his realm. However, it seemed that it was something other than what his captor had put together, or he just didn't care. It seemed that he had missed their meeting because he was being held captive, and that was what Dream meant when he said he didn't miss it intentionally. Hob had been imprisoned before, and it was too much. He couldn't imagine being imprisoned in the way that Dream described. His friend's hands trembled when he explained what was happening, and Hob wanted to comfort him. Hob made sure to telegraph what he was doing so Dream could stop him if he wanted, and he took one of Dream's hands into his own.

He was so pale that Hob expected him to be freezing cold, but he felt normal. Dream watched Hob carefully, and the two sat silently on the couch for a long time. All he could think about was Death and these other siblings he had heard Dream mention offhandedly. All he could think about was how none of them came to help their brother when he was suffering.

"Dream," Hob said because it was suddenly very important that these words were spoken out loud. "If I had known about your capture, I would have come."

"You would have rescued me, Hob Gadling?" Dream asked. Something about his voice made Hob look up into Dream's eyes, and he realized how close they were sitting. They still weren't touching aside from their hands, but the space between them was minuscule.

"Without hesitation," Hob replied. Dream reached forward with his free hand and pushed a strand of Hob's hair that had come loose behind his ear. The last time Hob had seen that move, he was doing it to a woman, and having it turned against him by Dream of all people was devastating. After centuries of living, Hob was honest enough with himself that he didn't care what gender someone was; all he wanted was connections. It was tough for him to connect with people, so his list of partners was small. If there was someone in the world Hob knew he had a connection with, it was Dream.

"I believe you, Hob, thank you," Dream replied softly. They sat quietly together, hands entwined, for the rest of the evening until Hob had to cook dinner. Dream didn't eat anything but stayed until it was late. "I will come and see you again soon," he said, and it sounded like a promise. Hob believed him.

+++

A few days later, Hob was having an extremely vivid dream. He was sitting in the White Horse and waiting for Dream. However, it wasn't 1989 and the time that Dream had yet to come to their meeting. Instead, it was sometime in the 1400s, and Hob was alone. All of the people he had known were dead or dying, and the world around him, everything that he knew, was changing. He didn't want to die, but he also didn't want to be alone either. He wanted Dream to turn up even though he didn't know his name was Dream at the time. However, the day turned into night, and Hob looked outside to see the sun rising. Dream hadn't come, and now he was alone. He was a man that couldn't die, and now he was alone in the world. He couldn't think of anything more terrifying in the world than being completely alone; before he knew how to do that when being alone was still something that kept him awake at night and made him doubt that this was a good idea--

"Hob," a voice said. He jumped, and Dream was sitting in front of him. However, instead of wearing period-specific clothing, Dream looked like he was wearing the same clothing now but with a slightly different coat. "You're dreaming."

"I'm dreaming?" Hob asked, and Dream nodded. "Are you a figment of my imagination? I thought up to make myself feel better, or are you the real Dream?"

"I'm not a figment of your imagination," Dream replied. "Very few people dream about me, so when someone does, it's like a beacon calling to me. I can ignore it if I must, but it's difficult. You don't dream of me often, but this didn't feel like a dream; it felt like a nightmare. I wanted to pull you out of it before it got too bad. This is a nightmare that isn't going to help you in any way; I should reformulate it." Hob opened his mouth to ask so many questions, but he latched onto one thing that made him feel sick to his stomach. Dream said that he didn't dream of him often, and that was true, but the dreams that Hob had had over the years were rather graphic and not strictly platonic. If there were anyone who wouldn't hold his dreams against him, it would be the man who was in charge of them, but it was still something that he didn't like.

"I'm sorry," Hob said, and Dream tilted his head. Apparently, he wasn't going to let Hob get away with just an apology. Apparently, he was going to have to explain why he was apologizing. "I didn't mean to dream about you. That's so humiliating."

"You didn't know what I was at the time," Dream replied like it wasn't a big deal. Maybe it wasn't to him, but after his capture, there was something violating about that idea now. Hob just hoped he could keep his subconscious under control and he wouldn't be having any of those dreams anytime soon. "You are far from the first to dream about me, but you are the first to dream about me like that in a very long time."

"Like what?" Hob asked carefully.

"With such care," Dream replied. Hob wanted to tell Dream that he deserved to be cared for, but something seemed to change in Dream's expression. "This is a terrible idea."

"What is a terrible idea? We haven't done anything," Hob replied.

"This dream is over." As soon as the words were spoken, Hob opened his eyes, and he was alone in his bed and in his flat. It was frustrating that Dream could end their conversations like that, but Hob was centuries old at this point. He was stubborn and could wait for an answer if he needed to. It turned out he didn't have to wait long because Dream was sitting in his flat when Hob got home from teaching that evening.

"I'm not sure if I should give you shit for breaking into my flat on a regular basis or not," Hob said as he put his things down. Dream frowned but didn't answer the question. Hob joined him on the couch and, once again, made sure they were close but weren't touching. "You told me in the dream last night that "this" was a terrible idea, but you didn't say what it was. I need you to say what you think is a terrible idea because I hate to tell you if it involves me, but I do get some say in this decision."

"Mortals who form relationships with me do not end well," Dream said and then didn't elaborate on what exactly that meant. That was another thing Hob would have to ask for clarification on at a later date, but right now, he was going to do something he loved more than anything. He was going to get by on a technicality.

"It's a good thing I'm not mortal then," Hob replied. Dream looked like he didn't agree, but he also seemed like he wouldn't argue either. "Look, I know you've been through a lot recently, and I know you know what I think of you because you've seen those dreams. We don't have to do anything. I'm fine with what we're doing right now, but I'm more than willing to explore more if you are." Dream stared at him for what felt like so long that Hob wanted to try and come up with some way to break the silence. However, just when Hob was about to say anything, Dream leaned forward and kissed him.

It was incredibly gentle like Dream was afraid that if he touched Hob or moved in the wrong direction, he would get scared and run away. There was absolutely no chance of that happening since Hob's dreams were quite literally coming true right now. They just kissed for a minute, like they were children, until Dream pulled away and looked at him.

"This is what you want?" he asked. Hob wanted to tell him that, of course, it was. This was all he had wanted for actual centuries, but then he remembered the glass prison and how no one ever asked Dream what he wanted.

"Is it what you want or what you think I want?" Hob replied.

"After centuries, and you still find new ways to be interesting, Hob Gadling," Dream said. The rest of the evening was nice, and they sat on the couch as Dream watched Hob grade some essays and laughed with him when his student made a particularly terrible turn of phrase. By the end, they were sitting close together, touching, and it was more domestic than Hob had been with anyone in a very long time. It was also getting late, and he had classes in the morning, but he didn't want this to end. He must have muttered something to that effect because Dream simply laughed at him. "We can continue this in the Dreaming if that is what you wish. You do need to sleep despite how mortal you might not be."

"You say that like I haven't nearly gone out of my damn mind from lack of sleep," Hob said, and Dream gave him a knowing look. "Of course, you already knew that. Were you the reason I was awake for four days straight?"

"No, that was your doing; you do have free will, after all," Dream replied. Hob shook his head and got up. Dream stepped into his space and kissed him again, a little harder this time, and with a little tongue. You learn how to use your tongue exceptionally well when you've existed as long as humanity has existed. Hob wasn't even embarrassed by how flustered by was by a simple kiss. "Look for me," Dream whispered, and he walked out of Hob's flat without a glance backward.

Hob didn't precisely throw himself into bed, but he did climb in after rushing through his nightly routine and hoping that sleep would come easy tonight. He also thought about Dream and about how good kissing him felt as he started to drift off. Maybe that would be enough to call Dream to his dreams sooner rather than later. It was earlier than he usually went to bed, but Hob closed his eyes and drifted off.

His dream was of London in the mid-1900s, which felt a little cruel. This was an era that Dream wasn't around in because of Rockrick Burgess, and now Hob was going to remind him of that fact. He wanted to come up with something else when Dream emerged from the crowd wearing black clothes and a long, black coat that looked like the night sky was sewn into the liner. This was Dream's kingdom, and he looked so much more at home here than he ever did in the real world. This must have been where he felt utterly content and at his most powerful. It was a good look on him.

"You decided to show me a time I didn't get to see?" Dream asked.

"We can figure something else out if you'd like," Hob replied, but Dream shook his head. "All right, let's go then." It might have been a dream, but Hob still found all of his favorite places that he wanted to show Dream. If they were all very close and didn't take any time to walk to one another, he wouldn't comment on it. It wasn't until he realized that he had taken Dream to one of his favorite flats that he had owned that Hob realized he had taken his date back to his house. He wanted to tell Dream that he didn't have any expectations and that he just really liked this flat when Dream was in his personal space and kissing the air from his lungs.

Hob felt his back hit the wall, and his entire world became where Dream was touching him. His hands weren't cold here either, and while he was putting more force behind his kiss, Dream still held him like he was something that needed to be protected. It was enough that all Hob could do was hang on for dear life until he had to break the kiss to breathe because that was something he needed to do in this dream. Dream stayed very close and touched Hob's waist. There was just a slit of skin showing between his shirt and his pants, Dream was barely touching him, but neither of them moved.

"We need to wait and do this in your world," Dream said, but he was close enough that their lips brushed together.

"Do we? Because right here and now seems just fine if you're asking me," Hob replied.

"Yes, but I might have some complications that I need to speak with you about that I would not like to have here," Dream said. Hob didn't know what that meant, but Dream was pressing soft kisses along his jawline, which was enough for Hob to forget his own name.

"I'm all for figuring out our boundaries," Hob said as he tilted his head to the side and let Dream work on kissing his neck. He was hard and nearly shaking with the effort not to grind against Dream's body. They were touching, but the only skin-to-skin contact was Dream's lips and that small slit of skin. That seemed essential and something that he needed to remember. Remembering was going to be tough because Dream decided to start sucking a bruise into Hob's neck, which felt incredible despite this being a dream. He wondered if he was going to wake up with bruises.

Hob managed to get ahold of his own mental faculties long enough to gently move Dream away from his neck and thread his fingers through the man's insane-looking hair. It was just as soft as he thought it would be and long enough for Hob to pull on it. That was absolutely something that needed to be discussed, though. However, kissing seemed to be on the table, and Dream didn't move away when Hob pulled him in for another kiss. This one was slow and deep, and Hob was quite enjoying making out with Dream. It was slow like syrup and felt like it went on forever. His lips were going numb, though, and he did have to pull away eventually. Dream didn't go far, not that he could with Hob's hold on his head.

"This dream needs to end soon," he said.

"Of course it does," Hob said with a groan. Dream might have laughed at him a little when he lightly banged his head against the wall. He was allowed to be a little dramatic sometimes. "You'll come and see me again?"

"In your world, next time," Dream said. Hob was about to ask what the implications were when he woke up. The sun was shining, it was a bright and beautiful morning, and Hob was so hard he thought he was about to go out of his mind. He hadn't woken up like this since he was a teenager, but some of the effects of dreaming with Dream did translate to the real world. At least the effect that Hob was hard with no one to help him. So he closed his eyes and thought about the dream that had just happened. It took almost no time with those vivid memories and how close he already was. Hob had come hard enough that he swore he saw stars.

After a very nice shower and dropping the laundry back in the hamper, Hob went to teach despite that dream lurking in his mind. If there was a little spring to his step and if he was smiling like an idiot, well, there wasn't anyone around to see it.

Dream did not return until well after the sun went down, and Hob was considering just going to bed and seeing if he could find the man in the dreams. However, he turned up just as it was getting too late. Hob wanted to yank him into the bedroom, but he remembered that Dream had mentioned things they needed to discuss. So Hob gestured for them to sit on the couch, but Dream bypassed it and went straight to the bedroom. Hob blinked, and by the time his brain caught up, Dream was lounging on Hob's bed like he always belonged there.

"There was an aspect of my imprisonment that I didn't share with you," Dream said as Hob joined him on the bed. "They kept me naked for the entire time I was held captive." Just when Hob thought he couldn't hate Burgess more, the man found another way from beyond the grave. "Now, I'm not sure how I feel about taking off clothing. I can touch you, and you can touch me over my clothing, but I'm not going to be taking them off right now."

"I can make that work," Hob said carefully. He was struggling to keep the anger out of his voice right now, but Dream either didn't sense it or disregarded it. One moment, they were sitting next to each other on the bed, and the next, Hob was lying down, and Dream was leaning over him, straddling his waist. The angles of the light coming through the window sharpened his cheekbones and somehow made him even more beautiful. How he looked at Hob also made him feel like he was prey that a predator had just caught. He couldn't remember any time that a partner had made him feel like that, and it was exhilarating. Dream smirked and closed the distance between them.

Dream was a solid weight against him as they kissed, and Hob once again got his fingers into that hair. He was gentle, but he did take hold of it enough to guide Dream where he wanted him. That got him a bite on his lower lip, and Hob was glad he didn't have any neighbors because his moan was incredibly loud. What he did have were patrons, and they were just below them. If they listened carefully, they could hear the noise of the bar, and the thought of his employees hearing this was terrifying. It wasn't frightening enough to damper the mood, though, as Hob continued to kiss Dream and let that man's talented tongue drive him a little out of his mind.

They were grinding against each other, and Hob was wondering if he was going to come in his pants like a teenager, but Dream apparently had other ideas. With one hand, he managed to pop the button on Hob's pants, and even the touch of Dream's hand on his bare stomach was enough to make Hob want more. Dream nibbled on his ear as Hob tried to convey that, yes, this was something that he wanted. It was a little undignified the wiggle he needed to do to get his pants low enough, but Hob was centuries old; he did not give a singular shit about dignity. He wondered how Dream would do this, but Dream was apparently reading his mind.

"Where do you keep your things?" he whispered directly into Hob's ear like the complete asshole that he was.

"Bedside drawer, I'd ask how you know about any of this, but then I remember you have all of the world's consciousness in your head. I can only assume you've seen every kind of sex that has ever existed," Hob replied breathlessly. Dream huffed a laugh against his ear, which made Hob shutter, and leaned up enough to go through the drawer.

"I may not be fond of Desire, but that doesn't mean I'm naive to all of the advancements in the modern age," Dream replied. Hob thought that there was something about the word "desire" that seemed off about the way he said it, but then Dream was pushing the last of his pants down, and he forgot about anything at all. He said he might not be fond of "desire," but Dream was well versed in it. He moved down Hob's body like a cat and proceeded to drive Hob out of his mind with his mouth. There was no possible way he was this good at this, yet here was what felt like two seconds into a blowjob and already feeling like he was about to come.

"If you don't stop, this is going to end," Hob managed to say, and he had to look away when Dream pulled off because that sight was a bit too much. Dream shifted so he was lying on his side, almost curled around Hob's body, and stayed up on one elbow so they could maintain eye contact.

"What if that is exactly what I want, Hob Gadling?" Dream asked. Once again, Hob was gearing up to make some sort of smartass remark when a hand wrapped around his dick, and he moaned out gibberish instead. Apparently, Dream managed to open the lube and get some between his fingers when Hob wasn't looking. It wasn't going to be much longer, and Dream must have sensed that he was close because he pressed their lips together and swallowed his moan as he came. Hob was panting when Dream pulled away and watched him carefully. He didn't know how to word that he was completely fine with the way everything just happened, and if this was all they could do for however long, he was okay with it. The words were getting stuck, so Hob fisted Dream's coat and pulled him into another kiss. When it ended, Dream looked much more settled.

They went through the awkward part of sex and cleaned up, but Hob wasn't about to let anything spoil his mood. Dream had been the focus of many of his fantasies for decades, and he never thought he would get the chance to have this. Dream was just the Stranger who refused to give even a name. Dream was waiting near the bedroom door when Hob emerged from the bathroom.

"Do you need to take off for the night?" he asked.

"You need to sleep," Dream replied, but Hob shrugged.

"You can stay for a little while if you want. I quite enjoy sharing a bed with someone I trust," he said. Dream looked a little shocked by that proclamation, and Hob supposed this was the first time he had said out loud that he trusted Dream. It took a moment to prepare everything, and Dream kicked off his boots. They lay down, facing each other, and Hob fell asleep to Dream's dark eyes, keeping watch over him.

+++

Dream didn't come all the time, but he did come often, and it did seem like he was enjoying himself when he did hang around. Sometimes, the two of them would just sit and talk, and sometimes they would do more. Hob hadn't gotten his hands on Dream yet, but he thought they might get there eventually. Dream eventually took him on a tour of the Dreaming, which was incredible. He couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around this world, yet here he was, walking around it. He wanted to see every corner that Dream was willing to show him and his eagerness to the Dreaming seemed to please Dream.

Not long after they started sleeping together, Dream turned up one night and looked uncomfortable again. They hadn't known how to communicate for a long time, and now they were doing a much better job making sure they were talking to each other. So Hob wasn't going to let Dream get away with ignoring whatever was going on between them.

"Something is bothering you; what's going on?" Hob asked.

"I've seen this conversation go very poorly in the dreams of others, so I must say that I am concerned it's going to go poorly here as well," Dream replied.

"All right, that isn't ominous at all," he said, trying to play it off, but now Dream was indeed making him a little nervous. Whatever he wanted to talk about was setting him on edge, and Hob didn't want to know what could put him on edge like this.

"The concept of one partner is one that not all cultures have practiced," Dream said carefully, and now it made sense. Hob held up a hand to silence him because he didn't need to hear more of this conversation.

"If you're about to tell me that there might be another person out there that you want to be with, then you should be with them," he said.

"People don't usually react that well in their memories," Dream said after a beat of silence, and Hob shrugged.

"I've been alive for too fucking long to worry about any of that. I don't even sleep with people unless I'm emotionally connected to them, and even that has a name these days. I have no problem with you having divided attention," he said but paused momentarily. "I'm not entirely sure I want to know any details, though, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell them anything about me, too."

"I'll be sure to practice discretion when I'm with her," Dream said. It was strange to think he was having a "are we going be exclusive" conversation with a man who was sort of a god, but Hob was more than happy to share. He might not age, but he also had no impression that he was anything special. Hob knew that Dream could find company anywhere and with anyone if he wanted to. The fact that they were both choosing to spend time with each other was enough for him. They went to bed that night, and Hob nearly swallowed his own tongue when Dream took off his jacket and let Hob run his hands down Dream's pale arms. It still wasn't the skin he ached to touch, but time was on his side. He could wait as long as he needed to.

Hob was out and about when he looked up and saw Matthew flying around nearby. It wasn't unusual these days, but Matthew also did a good job of making sure that Hob didn't notice him following him. So, he walked off to the park and managed to find a place where it was quiet enough that no one would see him and he could have a conversation with a bird. Matthew landed on the ground and sighed heavily.

"You want me to go and get some bread?" Hob asked.

"You're not nearly as funny as you think you are," Matthew deadpanned. "I'm just splitting my time now, and it's not nearly as much fun as you would think."

"Splitting your time?" Hob asked.

"The Boss has me keeping an eye on you and the girl because he's got an inkling about something that he won't give me too many details about," Matthew explained. Hob realized that Matthew was probably talking about Dream's other partner, and he didn't ask for more details. Matthew, however, continued. "Ever since all of that shit with the vortex and everything else, he's jumping at shadows." Hob also didn't know what a vortex was, but whatever had happened must have been part of the reason why Dream sometimes seemed a little distant. Matthew flew off shortly after, and Dream joined him for a drink at the pub a week later.

"I ran into Matthew the other day," Hob said as he sipped his pint.

"When I told him to keep an eye on you, I meant for him to do it without letting you know it was happening or getting in the way. I will have a conversation with him," Dream replied.

"Don't do that; I'm not trying to throw your raven under a bus, but he said something that worried me. Or I should say, he said that you seem a little worried about something, and that might be why you have him keeping an eye on me and "the girl" as Matthew called her," Hob explained. "Look, I'm a big boy, and I've been through hell and back, you know this. If I need to watch my back, then you need to tell me so I'm aware. That's all."

"One of my siblings was the one who orchestrated my capture and then tried to trick me into taking an innocent life that would have had repercussions that are far too complicated to explain," Dream said as he looked out at the small crowd of people that were in the pub tonight. "I put them in their place, but I suppose it makes me a little nervous. I have you, and I have her; I'm not used to having a person, let alone more than one. So allow me to have Matthew follow you and make sure that everything is fine."

"You'll tell me if I need to know more?" Hob asked, and Dream hummed in agreement. They didn't say much more for the night, and Hob was fine with people-watching for a few hours. It was very similar to their first few meetings, with sparse conversation as they looked at everyone but each other. It wasn't uncomfortable this time, which was a nice change of pace. The pub was closing for the night, and the staff didn't even look surprised when Dream followed him to his flat. By now, most of them knew that Hob was seeing someone, and that someone was Dream. He didn't give them a name or answer any of their questions, but the ones who had known him for the better part of a year did seem happy for him.

They were pressed close together, and Hob was mostly naked when Dream suddenly broke their kiss and pressed their foreheads together. It was a surprisingly tender move that they hadn't done before that kind of took Hob's breath away for a moment.

"I know you told me you weren't interested in what her and I did, but she did come up with a creative way to work around my issues with clothing," Dream whispered. "Would you like me to try something similar with you?"

"I think I would do anything with you," Hob said, but Dream said nothing. That was the wrong answer. "Yes, if that's what you want, then I want to, and if I want to stop, I'll tell you to stop." There was no other way to describe what Dream did other than a smirk that reminded Hob of a cat getting the cream or maybe catching a particularly troublesome mouse. A bottle of lube was already on the bed, but Dream picked it up and put some on his fingers. They had yet to explore much of this, and Hob hadn't done this with a man in literal centuries, but he also trusted that Dream would make sure he didn't get hurt.

So Hob let himself get a little lost in the way that Dream began to worship his entire body. If there were some sort of imperfection from before the time when he couldn't die, then Dream would spend time pressing his lips and tongue to that spot. All the while, it was a familiar stretch of someone taking their time to make sure that their lover enjoyed what was going on. Of course, Dream was also excellent at this; when he twisted his fingers in a way that made Hob see stars, the man seemed good at pretty much everything. It was almost frustrating if it wasn't the hottest thing ever happening to him.

Hob knew he was babbling and trying to tell Dream that he was more than ready, pulling him down to kiss the breath from Dream's lungs. There was something frantic about Dream's movements this time that made Hob think that he was just as desperate as Hob was for this to happen. Dream opened his jeans and only pushed them down enough to free himself. It took a little moving around for the two of them to find a place that would work, and Dream finally pushed inside. Hob bunched Dream's t-shirt in one fist hard enough that he thought he heard it pop, and the other was holding onto Dream's shoulder hard enough that he was probably about to draw blood.

It took a moment for both of them to move away from one another. Hob wasn't sure that his legs would work right now. Dream didn't stay that night; he didn't stay most nights, but he did leave Hob with a toe-curling kiss and a sense that they had taken another step forward.

+++

It was the end of some long office hours and even longer conversations with his students, and Hob was ready to go home and sleep. Dream had said something was happening, and he needed to stay away for a few days to care for something. That was fine with Hob; he had plenty of other things to work on, and Dream assured him that this was between him and someone else. It wasn't anything that could involve him in any way. That didn't mean Hob wasn't glad to see Matthew in the sky from time to time, and maybe he left some bread from his shopping when he was getting groceries the other day, mostly as a joke. Right now, he has a headache and far too many essays to grade still.

"Long day?" a voice called out. Hob had just exited the building and saw someone leaning against a nearby lamppost, smoking. He couldn't tell if this person was a woman or a man, but they were incredibly striking. In fact, they were drawing the attention of everyone on the street, but there was also something else about them that was a little eerie. Hob had yet to make it this long without trusting his instincts, and he would trust them now.

"You could say that," Hob replied.

"Same for me," they said and flicked the butt of their cigarette into the street. The ember burned bright against the cobblestones until the damp streets put the fire out. "I could use a drink. Do you know somewhere I could go?" Hob could say "no" and then find somewhere else to go, but he also felt safer in his home than anywhere else. At the same time, Hob wanted to avoid anyone figuring out where he lived. All his alarm bells were going off, and he was about to say "no" when the person smiled.

"I do; follow me," Hob said without even thinking. They smiled and began to follow him toward his flat, but Hob was even more on edge now. That wasn't the answer he wanted to give, but it was like the person smiled, which was the answer pulled from his mouth. It was concerning and made Hob wish that he knew how to defend himself from all of the insane things that he seemed to be running into these days. Maybe reaching out to the Constantine woman would be a good idea; she would probably know how to keep weird shit away from him.

"So you're a teacher," they said as they walked close enough to Hob that their arms were brushing. Both were wearing clothing, which was like getting hit with static shock. In some ways, it felt good, but it also hurt enough that it helped Hob keep a clear head. The longer this person was around, the less clear Hob felt. "What do you teach, handsome?"

"Literature and history," Hob replied, once again feeling like he couldn't lie even if he wanted to. "People need to learn from history to avoid repeating it."

"What a wise thing to say," they said with a laugh. The New Inn was within sight, and Hob hoped he could get his faculties under control if he got into the pub, but the person took his arm and stopped them in the shadows between the street lights. Somehow, their eyes looked golden in the same way that Dream's eyes sometimes look like the night sky. "You must be older than you look," they said. Hob was sure that something was going on here that he wasn't exactly privy to, but those golden eyes were hard to look away from. There was still that little something in the back of his mind that told him this was a bad idea.

"This is a bad idea," Hob managed to say out loud, and this mystery person looked very surprised that Hob managed to say that at all. That painted smile that looked rather fun and cheerful suddenly got a lot sharper, and Hob's sense of danger felt like it was screaming at him. This wasn't safe, and he needed to run, but his feet were still rooted to the ground. They walked forward into Hob's space so they were mere inches apart.

"I should have known that my brother would pick someone that was more interesting than they looked. I'm so glad to see that I was right," they said. The word "brother" was the final puzzle piece falling into place for Hob, and he felt a little stupid. He remembered that Dream told him about the other siblings he had running around, but besides Death, he never talked about any of them. Aside from Death, the only other thing Hob knew was that one of Dream's siblings orchestrated Dream's capture.

"You're one of Dream's siblings," Hob said, but once again, it was like the words were forming, and he had no filter for them.

"I am," they said. "I am Desire, and it's so lovely to meet the plaything that my brother has spent centuries playing with."

"What is your plan? Are you here to seduce me? Because I'm not entirely sure that it would work, but it might," Hob said as he gritted his teeth as Desire laughed. "Why do I keep talking like this?"

"Oh, that's because "desire" is so much more than just physical need, the same way that dreaming is so much more than just the little pictures my brother creates in your head," Desire replied. "Desire is honesty; it's truth, it's admitting what you want, so I've found it's much easier to find the root of what humans desire when I simply have them detail exactly what pops into their little heads. It's so much fun to play with all of you, almost as fun as playing with my brother."

"You're going to tell me what you mean by that," Hob said, leaning into this aspect of being around Desire. He made sure he put the truth behind those words because he had a sneaking suspicion of what it meant, but he needed to know for sure before trying anything incredibly stupid.

"Demanding things of the Endless? I wonder if my brother lets you get away with doing that," Desire smirked and took a single step back. It was a little easier to breathe with them a step away, and Hob could feel his head clearing a little. He also thought he saw a raven nearby but couldn't be sure.

"Are you the one who played a hand in Dream's capture?" Hob asked, and Desire laughed like that was a joke. The anger Hob felt not just on behalf of his lover but of the millions of lives ruined by this action was enough to help clear the last of the clouds in his mind. He clenched his fists and dug his nails into the meat of his palm; the pain was ground as Hob stared down the creature that had inadvertently caused the deaths of so many people and tortured someone who meant the world to him.

"You might be hiding from my sister's gift for now, human, but there still isn't enough time in the world to explain the conflicts between the Endless," Desire said condescendingly. "All you need to know is that it doesn't and never will concern you."

"I think you'll find that it very much does concern me," Hob snapped.

"You think you're important now because you're fucking my brother?" Desire asked.

"It concerns me because you got someone I care about hurt," Hob replied, but Desire rolled their eyes.

"It was just a little fun, and now he's fine; it's not the big deal that you seem to think it is," Desire said. "This is what I meant when I said it doesn't concern you. Your concepts don't apply to us; we're not like you, so stop trying."

"All right, let's say I believe that even though it's complete bullshit," Hob snapped. "You want to know why it concerns me? Two words: 'encephalitis lethargica,' that is why your little stunt concerns me. In fact, it concerns more than just me; it concerns all of humanity." The little smirk faded from Desire's lips just a little, but they said something, and Hob felt like all of the anger he had felt for many years about the sleeping sickness finally had a target. He wasn't about to stop now that he had the opportunity. "Did you know? Did you know what would happen if you got your brother captured? Did you know that people worldwide couldn't sleep, walked around like they were sleepwalking, or just never woke up? Did you know that would be a side effect?"

"Humanity could always use a culling," Desire said, but they didn't sound so sure of themselves.

"I met your sister, Death, not that long ago," Hob said, and for the first time, Desire actually looked a little afraid. "Does she know that you were responsible for all of those deaths? I can't imagine that deaths caused by the capture of one of the Endless are considered part of the natural order of things. I bet it messed things up for her. I wonder what would happen if she knew it was you." Desire bared their teeth at Hob, but they didn't lash out like he thought they might. He intentionally let Desire know that Death and him had met and spoken one-on-one. It was one thing for Death to withhold her gift from him; it was another for her to talk to him because even Dream seemed a little surprised that she talked to him. Hob had no idea if that and the fact that he was fairly sure that Matthew was nearly could be enough to save his skin if Desire tried to kill him for that threat.

"You say you teach history, so humanity stops repeating the mistakes of the past," Desire said. "However, you're making the same mistake as one of my brother's previous conquests. Perhaps you should ask him how that ended for the last human who decided that his affections were worth pursuing. You would be better off begging my sister to send you the Sunless Lands than trying to escape the past repeating itself again." They took another step back but kept their gaze on Hob. Those eyes shined like fires, and if Hob asked Desire what they desired, he guessed they wanted to wring his neck right now. "I'm going to give you some free advice: walk away from my brother. He will only drag you down in the end because that's what he does. He has always done that, and we aren't like you; we don't change. You might think he has, but he hasn't, and you certainly won't be the catalyst."

Hob didn't have anything to say to that; there wasn't much of a point because he knew Desire wouldn't explain what any of that meant, so he stood his ground. Desire looked him over one last night, sneered, and walked off into the night. Hob felt like he couldn't breathe until Desire turned a corner and vanished. It was like a heavy pressure got removed from his shoulders, and he could breathe freely again. Part of him wanted to sprint to his flat and lock the door, but the other part of him wanted to stand there and catch his breath. There was a flapping sound, and Matthew landed on the ground before him.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Matthew asked.

"That seems a little uncalled for," Hob replied.

"Oh, it was plenty called for; believe you me, I thought I was going to have to make an emergency call for the boss and try to explain why one of his siblings was trying to kill you," Matthew snapped, but then the bird heaved an exasperated sigh. "Between you and her, I don't know why the boss keeps choosing people to sleep with that don't know the meaning of the word "survival instincts." It really makes my job a lot harder."

"If I asked you to explain any of that vague or cryptic stuff, you wouldn't tell me, would you," Hob said without framing it as a question.

"Now I'm really starting to think you're out of your fucking mind," Matthew deadpanned, and he took off without another word. Hob liked to think that he was getting better at communicating with Dream, but he had a feeling that this was going to be an ugly conversation no matter how he phrased it. Dream had clearly kept something from him, and now Hob had to tell Dream that he had basically antagonized one of his siblings.

After Matthew flew away and Hob got the chance to return to the New Inn to get some liquor in him to calm his frayed nerves, Hob wondered if he should reach out to the woman that Dream was seeing. He couldn't talk to anyone else about this entire thing, and maybe she knew a better way to ask questions that didn't feel like walking through a minefield. In many ways, Hob was still convinced that Dream would turn around and walk away without a backward glance, as he did in 1889. That paranoia was almost impossible to shake; she could help him figure it out.

Hob's three shots of whiskey in very quick succession did, in fact, calm his nerves quite a bit. The staff at the New Inn seemed to recognize that something was wrong right away and were giving him the side eye. He hoped no one would ask him what was happening, but he wasn't that lucky.

"What's going on with you today, sweetie?" asked Jamie. She was an American who had come to the city looking for something and ended up staying longer than she planned. She handled the crowds differently from his other bartenders, but she was someone who at least pretended like she was interested in what was going on with his life. Or maybe she was just used to the American system where she had to do that, or she wouldn't get tipped. "Did that stunner of a man of yours do something stupid?"

"Ah, Jamie, I don't kiss and tell," Hob replied, but his words were a little slurred from the three quick shots. Jamie looked unimpressed with him, and she was also a little terrifying despite being a tiny thing. If she thought Dream had wronged Hob in some way, he didn't put it past her to try and get some justice on his behalf. "Kind of. He might be keeping something from me, and I don't know how to ask him about it without worrying that he will get up and vanish."

"Does he do that often? Get up and vanish?" she asked.

"We were friends for a long time before we started doing all of this, and once a year, we would meet up for drinks and to catch up," Hob carefully explained. He needed to make sure he didn't reveal anything in this explanation, but he was also a little tipsy. This was probably not a good idea, but he powered on. "It was all very platonic, and one time, I accused him of something that ended up being true, but he wasn't ready to face it yet. So he got up and walked away. He didn't show up to our scheduled meet-up the next year. We didn't have any way of getting in contact with each other because he was living off the grid then, so I couldn't reach out to find out what was happening. I got stood up, I guess, and three months after our scheduled time, he walked in here. You've seen the rest unfold." Jamie put a glass of ice water before him, and Hob drank about half before putting it back down. "I know I'm just paranoid I'll say the wrong thing and piss him off again, but I don't know how to move past that." Jamie drummed her long fingernails against the wood of the bar for a moment and narrowed her eyes.

"You don't need to do anything," she said, which wasn't what Hob was expecting. "He's the one that needs to prove to you that you can trust him not to run off again when things get hard. If he can't do that much, then fuck him; no man is worth it. Not even one that pretty." Hob chuckled and finished the rest of his water.

"I ran into one of his siblings, and they told me that he never changes, and I won't be the one to do it," Hob replied. "Granted, this sibling is one he doesn't get along with at all, so their opinion of him is worth fuck all, but they do know him better than I ever will."

"No man is worth it, not even one that pretty," Jamie repeated, and she got flagged down to the bar to deal with some more people who needed drinks. Hob left her enough for the whiskey and went up to his flat. That night, when he dreamed, they were hard to figure out. These days, when Hob dreamed, they were usually one of two things: either memories or lucid ones that involved Dream. These dreams were different, and they were like modern art. Lots of colors and vague designs that might make sense if he squinted, but they all kept moving so fast that Hob couldn't figure any of them out.

When he woke up the following day, he was slightly hungover because he had three shots of whiskey and a glass of water for dinner. Dream not appearing made Hob think that Matthew hadn't told him what had happened right away. Or maybe he was dealing with something more important than all of this. Hob kept an eye out for Desire as he made his way to his classes that day, but there wasn't any sign of their red lips or golden eyes anywhere.

Dream burst into Hob's flat in the middle of the night without knocking or even saying a word to anyone. He was on edge from everything happening for the last day, so Hob jumped and nearly threw the knife he was cooking with at Dream. Once he saw that he knew who it was, Hob was instantly annoyed that this was what ruined his nerves for the rest of the evening.

"You could have knocked," Hob said. Dream didn't say a word; he just marched through the flat and immediately got into Hob's space. "What are you doing?" Dream still didn't say anything; his eyes were wide, and he was frantically looking over every inch of Hob's body. It was then that he realized that Dream was looking for some sort of wound or injury on him. He just learned about the confrontation between Hob and Desire and panicked. That was sweet, but it was also proof that the Endless was incredibly dangerous, and Dream hadn't forewarned him so he could take the time to try and protect himself.

"You're safe," Dream stated.

"I'm fine," Hob replied.

"Matthew said that my sibling came and spoke to you, but he didn't tell me what else happened. Did they try to hurt you or do anything else?" Dream asked. The second part of that question made it sound like Dream was trying to delicately ask around a question that he might not want the answer to.

"You mean, did they try to seduce me?" Hob asked, and Dream flinched in a way that Hob hadn't ever witnessed before. "If they did, they didn't try very hard; I'm not sure what they were trying to accomplish when they came here trying to talk to me."

"They were trying to get under my skin because that is what Desire does," Dream snapped. He sounded angrier than Hob had ever heard him. "They just want to make things more difficult by poking at things that they know will make me angry. They want some sort of reaction because they know that I can't react the way I want to." There was something about the way Dream was acting that made him seem particularly on edge. There was a chance that this was just the way Dream reacted to Desire reaching to him, but there was something else going on that Hob couldn't put his finger on. When Hob reached out to touch Dream's arm, he flinched again but tried to hide it.

"Hey, what's going on?" Hob asked.

"My sibling that could kill or do worse to you visited and was threatening, and you're wondering why I'm upset?" Dream snapped. "I thought mortals enjoyed it when lovers expressed concern for their well-being." The way Dream spat out the word "mortals" was with such venom that Ho was shocked. Dream pulled away from him and sat down on the couch. Hob followed quietly but didn't sit down next to him. Instead, he sat down on the chair so there was some distance between them. It seemed like the right move, and, for the first time, Hob thought that he might be a little afraid of Dream and this anger.

"That's a reason to be angry, but it seems like there might be something else going on that you aren't telling me," Hob said. Dream didn't say anything; he just glared at the ground as if it had personally offended him, and the two of them sat in heavy silence.

"What did they tell you?" Dream asked quietly, and he still did not look up from the ground he was staring at.

"What did who tell me?" Hob replied.

"What did Desire tell you?" Dream said, his voice a little harsher. "I know they wouldn't have said anything to you, so I want to know exactly what they told you. It is important that I know what they told you." Hob hesitated because this wouldn't be a good conversation; he could already tell, but he also knew he probably wouldn't get out of this conversation either. Dream was so on edge that if Hob tried to redirect or say they could address it at another time, he wouldn't accept it. There isn't a chance in hell that he would accept it.

"They admitted that they were the ones who got you captured," Hob said. "I asked them if they knew the sleeping sickness would happen if you were taken out of the Dreaming. I wanted to know if it was done intentionally because I lived through watching that, and something about it just told me that it wasn't natural." Dream finally looked up like that aspect of his captivity, and the outcome of it hadn't even dawned on him, which bothered Hob a little, but he wasn't about to bring it up right now. "Desire more or less admitted that they didn't know that would be a side effect."

"No, I suppose they wouldn't know that," Dream whispered. "What else?"

"I wasn't sure if any of your other siblings knew about what Desire had done, and I might have hinted that I had met Death, and she might not be happy that Desire was responsible because I had a feeling that the deaths from the sleeping sickness weren't part of the natural order," Hob replied.

"You tried to threaten them?" Dream snapped. His eyes were blazing, and the silence in the room was extremely heavy. Eventually, Dream closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and visibly calm himself down. "I know that wouldn't have gone well, so I must know what happened next."

"They told me that while some might think you've changed, you haven't, and you won't ever," Hob replied, and then he hesitated. "They also mentioned what happened the last time you loved a mortal. They made it sound like it is something I should ask you about. I was going to wait until I thought it was a good time to bring it up, but it seems like we have to do this now." Dream was quiet for a long time, and he was nearly still, but neither wanted to break the silence.

"She told me that she thought I'd changed, but maybe she was wrong," Dream whispered so quietly that Hob thought that maybe the words weren't intended for him. "Somehow, both of you found out about Nada in different ways. It seems that I have to tell Johanna, and I have to tell you about this." Hob tried not to get stuck on the fact that Dream had just named his other partner, and he wondered what the odds were that there was another woman with the name Johanna who had family ties to Dream. That was a conversation for another time because, from the tone of Dream's voice, it sounded like this conversation with Johanna hadn't gone well. "Nada was a mortal woman I was with many centuries ago, and she betrayed me. For that betrayal, she had to be punished."

"I'm going to need you to elaborate on what "punished" means in this context," Hob said carefully. He knew it would be bad because Dream visibly hesitated before he said anything.

"I had her soul sent to hell," Dream replied. For all of the many things that Hob thought that Dream could say, that was not one of them. That was not the thing that he thought the man he was sleeping with was capable of. It was horrifying and terrifying to think about. There was also the fact that Dream never specified what she did to make him so angry and have him send this woman to hell.

"How long was she there?" Hob whispered and prayed; he didn't pray often, but he prayed that it was a short amount of time even though there was probably a good chance that time passed differently in hell and it wouldn't matter much.

"I still haven't forgiven her," Dream replied. At that, Hob had to stand up because he felt sick. He was still coming to terms with the fact that hell existed, and now he was being informed that Dream had damned a woman and just left her there for doing something to make him angry. When Hob finally turned around to look at Dream again, he was on his feet and staring at Hob with that blank expression he would sometimes have when they first met. This wasn't the same man he'd been talking to and getting closer to since Dream strolled back into his life.

"I think I need you to go," Hob managed to say. Dream blinked once and walked out of the flat without another word. Hob didn't know that he would ever exist in a world where he thought he would ask Dream to leave a second time, but here he was. When he slept that night, he dreamed, but Dream was nowhere to be found.

+++

Some time passed, and Hob tried not to think about anything too much. Instead, he focused on his work and did a little digging into Johanna Constantine. The last thing that he could find her name connected to was the case of a man named Richard Madoc, who was doing some very weird things that couldn't be explained, and then he was suffering from something that made it hard for him to focus. Johanna had stepped away from the case a little over a week ago, but Hob went to the home and saw the once-famous author sitting in the garden. He was frowning like he was trying to remember something, and no one was nearby. Hob heard one of the nurses mention that the one person that Richard used to have left him, and now he was recovering alone.

His students were teenagers and far too astute, so they noticed something was bothering him. They were also nosey, and one of them had seen Dream and him getting drinks at the New Inn one night. So, the rumor began to spread about the professor's new boyfriend and what he looked like. So when Hob came in two days in a row and couldn't quite hide how much this was weighing on his mind, his students called him out in a way that only teenagers could. They were blunt and a little mean.

"Did you get dumped, professor?" one of them asked. Hob reminded himself he couldn't yell at thirteen-year-olds; it would be rude and unprofessional, but he was sorely tempted.

"My personal life isn't really part of the lesson plan," Hob replied, but they weren't listening to him. They started asking him all of these personal questions that he didn't have answers to and didn't know how to deal with. However, they were also so young and reminders of just how much the world changed and so often. Hob knew that if anyone had time to stew in his anger, it was him; he had nothing but time until Death decided he was on his way out. Time and the benefit of it was something that most people didn't get. He had something that most people dealing with interpersonal problems didn't, which was the ability to wait until he had sorted out his feelings.

However, Hob had spent most of his immortal life waiting for the chance to be with Dream in the way he wanted. It was hard to think of walking away from that. He was in his office trying to come up with how he would approach all of this when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," Hob called out, expecting another smartass student to come in, trying to talk to him about his relationship. Instead, he looked up and saw a stunningly beautiful woman with long brown hair walking in. She smiled warmly at him and shut the door behind her. "I don't believe we've met. Are you the mother of one of my students?"

"I'm afraid not," she said as she sat in the chair across from him. "We have someone in common. I used to call him Onerios when he was my husband, but I believe he asks people to call him Dream these days."

"Your husband?" Hob said, maybe a little too loudly, and she smiled like she was laughing at him. Maybe she was.

"I'm Calliope and Onerios and I were married a very long time ago. We separated on terrible terms when our son passed away; I believe you know him from the myth of Orpheus," Calliope explained. Apparently, a Greek muse was sitting in his office, and she was the ex-wife of the man he was currently sleeping with. "Some time ago, I fell under the capture of several terrible humans, and it wasn't until recently that I was set free. I believe you got the chance to see the man who held me captive; his name is Richard Madoc, and he needed inspiration for his books. He took it by force when I wouldn't give it to him freely." The implication of that was not lost on Hob, and he felt a little sick.

"I am so sorry for what you have suffered," he replied.

"You are genuine when you say that, which I appreciate dearly," she said. "I haven't seen Onerios since he helped set me free, but I have some who have told me what is happening, including some of his subjects. I was told that you were told he has not changed and will not change."

"Yes, that is more or less what I was told," Hob said carefully.

"Allow me to reassure you as one of the few who has seen Onerios in ways that only a few are privileged to see, he has changed. The man I once knew would not have come to my rescue all of those centuries ago, and he would not have shown mercy even if I asked for it," Calliope explained. "We are very old, Hob Gadling, and as you can imagine, it is hard for old things to change. He has been the same for nearly his entire existence, but he is changing now. I believe that has something to do with his recent experiences and his relationships with you and Johanna. You are helping him." Hob didn't know how to tell this woman that he couldn't wrap his head around the idea of the man he loved damning a woman to hell, but he had a feeling that she understood on some level. "You have every right to be afraid, but do not let that fear dictate your future. Onerios didn't when you frightened him all of those centuries ago. Please consider it."

"Thank you," Hob whispered. Calliope smiled beautifully at him and strolled out of his office without looking backward.

+++

Hob spent time thinking about everything and how he wanted to approach all of this going forward. However, there was something about hearing that Dream had changed from someone who knew him well and had loved and been loved by him at one point, which felt very different. Desire had every reason to lie to him because it would drive a rift between him and Dream. Calliope, however, didn't have a reason to lie to him. She didn't gain or lose anything from the two of them being together, so she had no reason to lie. So he was inclined to believe that Dream really had changed for the better in the last couple of centuries and that the recent incidents all impacted him.

It took some thought, but Hob decided he needed to speak to Dream about Nada and where they stood. However, the man wasn't easy to get ahold of, so he had to wait. The world kept spinning, and Hob tried to focus on work when he could. He thought he saw Matthew following him at times, but the raven never got close enough for them to talk. Eventually, Hob started talking to himself whenever he thought Matthew was nearby and hoped the raven could hear him pass the message along. Three days later, he was once again grading essays and wondering if perhaps thirteen-year-olds were trying to drive him out of his mind with their sentence structure when there was a knock at the door. Hob opened the door, and Dream was waiting for him. He gestured for Dream to come in and was glad when he did.

"Matthew mentioned that you were saying that you wanted to speak to me," Dream said once the door was closed.

"Yeah, that's true, but you can take a seat if you want," Hob replied. He didn't join Dream on the couch again; he kept them separate, but there wasn't much distance between them. There was enough that he could tell that Dream felt safe enough, and that was all he needed. "I was afraid."

"Of Desire?" Dream asked.

"Of you," Hob said honestly. "It's frightening to think of you being so vengeful that you would send someone to hell. I spent way too much time wondering if you were about to do that to me when I offended you all of those years ago because I have no concept of what a betrayal worthy of damnation is." Dream frowned like he didn't quite understand the concept, but Hob waited for him to try and explain.

"It was a long time ago," Dream said carefully. "Another reason it happened is that there are rules for the Endless, one of which is being with humans. When I was with Nada, that went against the rules, and sometimes I wonder if that played a part in everything that followed from that." Dream paused and took a deep breath. "It's hard to explain when there is no concept of time, but perhaps you are beginning to understand a little what it means. However, I never had any moment in my time when I understood what it meant aside from my capture. I'm trying to listen more; I'm trying to be different, but it's difficult for me."

"I just don't want to accidentally do something that's going to get me damned to hell," Hob explained, and he didn't think that was too much to ask. Judging from how Dream laughed a little, he got the amusement in Hob's tone even though this was far from a joking matter.

"Rest assured, Hob Gadling, if I believe that you have done something that offended me that much, I won't send you to hell. Lucifer is quite cross with me these days, and she would be happy to get her hands on someone like you," Dream said. That spawned a long conversation about what Hell was actually like as Dream danced around the idea that the devil was angry at him. Hob thought that seemed like something to be concerned about, but Dream was doing his best to avoid that topic of conversation.

So they talked about anything else, and it was like old times. It reminded Hob of their first few meetings, only this time, it wasn't like pulling teeth to get a single word from his Stranger. Now, Dream spoke to him, and the conversation was free-flowing. Before long, Hob was starting to nod off, and Dream was giving him that look that he needed to spend some time in the Dreaming before he got in trouble.

"Yeah, yeah, still mortal enough that I have to sleep; you don't need to rub it in," Hob deadpanned. They both stood, and things felt awkward for the first time. He thought about what he wanted to ask Dream to do next when Dream walked forward and into Hob's space. It was telegraphed, and Hob could have stopped him at any time, but there wasn't a chance in hell of that happening. They were close enough to touch, but all Hob could feel was the slight heat from Dream's body and his breath. There was a beat, and then he wasn't sure who closed the distance, but then they were kissing. It was perfect, just like it always was when it came to kissing Dream. In a moment of madness, he thought he should have asked Calliope if Dream had always been this talented, but then Dream distracted Hob with his talented tongue.

He wasn't sure how long they stood there in the middle of his flat, slowly kissing and relearning each other's bodies. Neither of them moved to take off their clothing or touch any more skin that wasn't their faces or necks. It was nice just to stand there and be with him for what felt like a long time. Eventually, Hob needed to breathe again, and he had to pull away, but his fingers had wound their way into Dream's hair, and he didn't let the man get far. He wanted to ask if they were okay and if everything would be okay moving forward between them, but the words got lost.

Dream must have seen something in his eyes because he managed to get Hob's fingers out of his hair and pressed soft kisses to Hob's forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and lips. The movement was incredibly tender, and it nearly brought Hob to tears because he hadn't felt so cared for in a long time. When he opened his eyes again, he saw they would be okay. It was going to be a rocky road between them, and it wasn't going to be perfect, but Hob believed that they would be okay.

"I will see you soon," Dream whispered.

"I'll hold you to that," Hob replied. They kissed one more time, and Dream managed to pull away. Dream didn't walk out of the flat; instead, he vanished in a swirl of sand and left the tiny grains on the floor. Hob knelt and touched them, but once again, he made no move to clean them up. Even if they were just grains of sand, it was still proof that Dream left something of himself behind.

+++

Not long after that, Dream seemed to settle even more, and Hob was curious why. However, he couldn't even imagine all the insane things that must have happened in the Dreaming and anything else that could count as family drama with the Endless. So Hob was just glad to see Dream's shoulders a little less tense, and he was once again comfortable enough to take off his coat, so Hob got to see a little skin. One day, he hoped that Dream would trust him enough to share his entire body, but if running his fingers along Dream's pale arms was all he got? Hob would be happy.

So he was a little lost in his world when he was in the New Inn, grading his papers and not paying attention when someone who wasn't Dream sat down at his table. He was about to tell them to leave when he looked up and nearly fell over. Apparently, the current Johanna Constantine took after her ancestor because Hob swore he was seeing the same woman. For a moment, he wondered if maybe there was someone else out there who also wasn't aging, and Dream just didn't tell him. She knew about him like he knew about her, and she wasn't here to hurt him, as far as Hob could tell. He didn't think Dream would let that happen, so he invited her to his flat anyway.

They had a pleasant conversation, and it was amusing watching her try and work her mind around the idea that Hob wasn't anything supernatural, that he was just a regular human who wasn't dying because Death had decided that she wanted to withhold her gift from him. Johanna handed him a vial and explained that the sand that Dream left behind sometimes could be dangerous, and he could use that to protect himself. It was nice to talk to someone who knew who he was and what he was, and they were sleeping with the same person.

It could be that Johanna was one of the few people who knew and, therefore, was someone that Hob could talk to. Maybe that was why he asked her if they could meet up again because he really did want someone else to talk to. Dream was a decent conversationalist, but he had a feeling that Johanna would bring something new to the conversation that Dream wouldn't. For a moment, he thought that she wasn't going to give him her card and she was about to tell him to bugger off. However, Johanna handed him a business card and seemed willing to meet up to talk again. When she left, Hob looked at her card and wondered how soon was too soon to call.

+++

Dream was not the right person to ask how long the right amount of time was to wait to call Johanna, and his students would probably laugh in his face. So that was how Hob found himself sitting at the bar of the New Inn telling a mostly fictionalized version of himself, Dream, and Johanna's relationship. She didn't look overly impressed at first, so Hob told her that everyone involved knew this was going on and no one was keeping secrets. She drummed those long fingernails on the wood and thought.

"Why do you want to talk to her?" Jamie asked.

"We share some unique experiences that I can't share with anyone else," Hob replied, and Jamie narrowed her eyes at him. "You look like you don't believe me."

"I suppose the question is whether or not you want to sleep with her too," Jamie said, and Hob choked on his drink.

"No, no, she's beautiful and quite impressive, but I don't think there is anything between us. I'd like to be her friend and someone I can talk to on a semi-regular basis," he said. Jamie looked like she still didn't believe him and tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder.

"If you're serious and you don't want to sleep with her, then there really isn't too early of a time for you to call her. You want to be friends, and friends talk to each other. Just because you're calling doesn't mean you'll meet up right away; it just means you called. If you want to sleep with her and you're lying to me, then you need to wait at least a week," she explained. He did not want to sleep with Johanna, but Hob had a feeling that he wouldn't be convincing Jamie of that anytime soon. So, instead, he decided he could take her advice and called Johanna the next afternoon when he was between classes. She didn't pick up, but he left a message with his number and told her to contact him anytime.

Johanna didn't call him back right away; it took her a few days, and in that time, he saw Dream again. When he saw the vial on the table, he looked shocked.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Johanna stopped by and gave it to me," Hob replied. Dream's face did something very complicated that was almost comical and probably the most human thing Hob had ever seen him do. "Don't worry, she didn't try to exorcise me or anything like that, but she was curious about what exactly I was."

"That doesn't surprise me," Dream deadpanned, "and it was also one of the reasons I did not introduce you. Johanna Constantine is very curious, and I thought she might find you too curious." Hob shrugged, and they got to spend the night together. Johanna finally reached out the next day as Hob was going to classes. She didn't call, but she did send him a text, which he was not great with, much to the amusement of his students and the staff of the New Inn. It wasn't that he didn't understand it; he did. Hob just liked talking to people on the phone more than these messages.

'I've been busy with some work, but would you like to meet up for dinner and drinks? My treat, I have reliable information that an ancestor of mine caused some problems for you several centuries ago,' the text read. Hob huffed a laugh as he read it.

'That's one way to put it. Dinner and drinks sound great. You can choose and let me know the time and place. I'm teaching, so my schedule is not the one that changes like yours,' Hob replied. The phone went silent until late afternoon, and Johanna sent him the address of a restaurant across town that he had yet to hear of with a possible 19:00 start time. He agreed to it, and he must have smiled when he sent the text because his students started giving Hob a relentless amount of shit and asked if he was texting his partner.

+++

Johanna was apparently the type who showed up early, and she was already waiting for him by the time Hob arrived. She appeared to already be halfway through a glass of wine, and he wondered just how early she was or if she was one of those people who just drank really fast. The waiter that sat him looked at the two of them knowingly, like he thought they were on a date that was entertaining.

"Thanks for coming," Hob said.

"Thanks for the invite," Johanna replied. He ordered some drinks, and Johanna told him not to worry about the price because all this was on him. He hadn't had a good meal out in a while, so he ordered some nice food for them to eat. "So why did you want to talk to me again? Did something happen?"

"No," Hob replied, "it's like I told you before. No one knows about my extended life, so I don't have anyone to talk to. Also, no one knows what it's like to sleep with Dream of the Endless, so I figured the two of us could meet and chat occasionally. If nothing else, because we are the only ones who know what the other is going through."

"That's true," Johanna said, and she hesitated. "There are some things about him that, let's say, concern me about where all of this could go in the future."

"He told you about Nada?" Hob asked, and Johanna hummed in agreement. "Yeah, I found out about that too. It's a little terrifying to think about how one of the times it ended badly for him, the person ended up in Hell."

"I want to keep his secrets, but I also feel like this might be something where comparing notes might be the way to go," Johanna said. "Well, some notes unless you want to share more details." She smirked, and Hob laughed.

"I haven't been with anyone in any capacity for a long time, and he's still a bit of a mess after the capture," he said. "The clothing?"

"Yes," she said as she swirled her glass of wine. "He won't remove them when he's around me either, but considering what I've learned, it sounds like that might not be changing anytime soon. I get it, and we've figured out ways to work around it, but it's still hard to see." Johanna was fairly easy to talk to, and the conversation between them flowed fairly easily. Hob was not surprised to find out that their relationships with Dream mirrored each other in some ways. She also fought with him about Nada, and then they spent some time apart, but her fight with Dream was also connected to something else.

Johanna didn't give many details about Astra, only that she was an innocent girl in Hell who didn't deserve to be there, and she thought there might be a way for Dream to help her get Astra out. It wasn't meant to be, but it led to an argument. Some things happened that Hob didn't know about that were connected to Dream. Apparently, all of the serial killers either committing suicide or confessing was something that he did to all of them. Johanna also had more details about what exactly happened to Richard Madoc, and she explained that before she knew what he did to Calliope, she thought Dream was being petty. Without the context and knowing what she knew about the serial killers and with Nada, he didn't blame her for jumping to that conclusion. It made Hob a little nervous that these were all things that Dream didn't bother to tell him about.

Johanna didn't know as much about Desire as he did, so Hob took the time to explain that. She looked shocked that he had met not one but two more of the Endless. He didn't mention that if there was anyone who could give her a definitive answer on whether or not Astra could be saved, it was Death because that didn't seem like a good idea for this conversation. By now, they were on their third round of drinks and poking at what remained of their dinner as the patrons around them moved around like they didn't have a care in the world. She looked bothered by something, and he asked her what it was.

"Desire did what they did to Dream, and them coming after you, even if it was just in that little way, seems to indicate that whatever was going on between the siblings isn't exactly buried. So that could be an issue on the horizon," Johanna explained. "A demon I was exorcizing mentioned that Lucifer is looking for ways to weaken Dream for some sort of slight that happened when he was down there recently. He didn't give me any details about what exactly happened, but if the devil is anything, I imagine she is petty. If anyone could figure out a way to damage someone's ego enough to wage war, it would be Dream."

"You think he could be in danger?" Hob asked.

"I think that he has the potential to be attacked on multiple fronts, and it could be really bad if Desire decided to seek out Lucifer for help with their next game," she said. He hadn't thought of that, and it was something to consider.

"Sounds like he's going to be people watching his back. People that are willing to help him when he needs it and not just when he has to ask for it," Hob said. Johanna studied him and then smiled brightly.

"I agree," and she downed the rest of her wine.

+++

Between his immortality and Johanna's magic, Hob felt pretty comfortable walking around the city with her late at night when they were both a little tipsy. The conversation moved from things that were so dire and back to things that were more fun. The space between them was getting smaller, but when they wrapped their arms around each other, it was like holding a friend and nothing else. They were nearly back to the station where they could take their respective trains when Johanna decided she wanted to ask Hob a question that made him almost fall down a flight of stairs.

"If he asks to fuck both of us at the same time, what would you say?" she asked. The question was so blunt and matter-of-fact that Hob choked on either his own spit or air. Once he could speak again and Johanna stopped laughing at him, Hob managed to find his words again. They were standing in an abandoned tunnel of the tube, the overhead lights a little blinding because of the alcohol, and Johanna was grinning at him.

"I think that is a conversation the three of us would need to have," Hob replied diplomatically, but Johanna wouldn't take that as the answer. She walked into his space and began to play with his jacket.

"Didn't sound like a 'no' to me," Johanna said with a seductive edge to her voice. Hob raised an eyebrow, which made Johanna start laughing a little. "Fair enough, but for what it's worth, I think the three of us would have a good time if he wanted that."

"I can agree to that," he replied. Maybe it was the alcohol, but this was the most uncomplicated evening he had had in a very long time. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to get drunk with someone and not have to worry about whether or not he might say the wrong thing that would tip his hand. He was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful that he had found someone else with whom he could have a casual conversation. "Thank you for this, Johanna. Shall we do this again sometime?"

"Next time, drinks and food are on you," Johanna replied. She kissed his cheek dryly and walked off toward her train. Hob watched her go until she vanished around the corner. Then, he shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way home. He wondered which of them would get to tell Dream about this little meeting first.

Dream was hard at work when Matthew came and found him. The raven spent a decent portion of his time splitting his duties between watching Hob and Johanna. Dream knew that he had enemies out there, and ever since Desire reached out to Hob, he was even more nervous for the two mortals he managed to attach himself to. He tried not to think about the fact that it had ended so poorly the last time, and now he was doing it twice, but Johanna and Hob were challenging people to resist. Dream wasn't strong enough to resist the temptation that both of them brought, and now he had to ensure that any consequences of giving in fell on him and him alone. The punishment would go to him alone.

Matthew often complained about both of them for different reasons. He said that Johanna was reckless and often seemed one step away from getting herself into situations that could cost her her life. Matthew might have hinted once that he thought Dream should say something to her about being more careful, but this was not the first time he had tangled with a Constantine. Johanna's family had been working with him in various ways for centuries, and he learned a long time ago that trying to tell a Constantine what to do usually meant they would do the opposite just out of spite. So, he did not follow Matthew's advice about telling Johanna to be more careful and just hoped that keeping watch meant that he could intervene before things got too bad.

As for Hob, Matthew often complained that he was too boring. For all that he had lived a long and interesting life, Hob was keen to lay low for now. Dream wasn't surprised that he enjoyed teaching, and he also could see how Hob hated how history was reframed by the people who wrote it. He would rant to Dream while grading essays about how wrong all of the books got, and if he could, he would find a way to correct it all, but he couldn't. So Hob took comfort in trying to make sure that the next generation of humans learned from past mistakes so they didn't repeat them. Sometimes, Matthew would tell him about how the students or the employees of the New Inn would talk about him. The students knew that Hob was with someone, and they loved to tease him about it. One day, Dream wanted to show up to the classroom during the day just for the reaction, but he took solace in Matthew's stories for now.

So Matthew arrived while Dream was working, and something about the raven looked a little off. Whatever he wanted to say bothered him, and he didn't know how to word it. However, Dream was not about to rush him and kept working until Matthew decided it was time to speak.

"They've met," Matthew said, and Dream stopped crafting his new nightmare. He could be talking about plenty of things, but Dream needed to make sure he was right about what Matthew was talking about.

"Who has?" Dream asked.

"Hob and Johanna, she went over to his flat today," Matthew replied. It took a fair amount of self-control for Dream not to rush there right away, but Hob didn't seem concerned about any of it when Dream saw him. Hob also didn't mention that Johanna had come for a visit, and the only evidence of it was another vial to collect the sand he left behind so it couldn't hurt Hob. Dream wasn't sure why he decided not to say anything about the two of them meeting up and that he knew about it, but he didn't.

Not long after, Matthew reported that Johanna and Hob were going to go out for dinner that night. Dream decided that he would break his rule and head into the human world to see what was going on between them. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to hate each other, to get along, or to find them in bed already. Dream could not name which option frightened him if someone asked him. By the time he saw them, Hob and Johanna were a little drunk, wandering, just talking to each other. Their conversation was light, but they did mention him at times. Dream was a little surprised when they both said they intended to keep an eye on him because very few seemed to. It was a reminder that Hob and Johanna would have come and broken him out of prison if they could have.

They were touching and had their arms wrapped around each other, but Dream knew how Johanna and Hob looked at someone they wanted to sleep with, and that was not how they were acting around each other. They were enjoying each other's company and not much more than that. It was easy to keep to the shadows even in the brightly lit tube station. When Johanna asked what Hob would say if Dream asked for a night with the three of them, his heart skipped a beat. He never even considered the fact that he could have both of them at once. They both seemed amendable to it and if he asked, they would probably say 'yes.' However, Dream didn't think he would ask.

As he watched the two of them part, he could see that whatever was blooming between Hob and Johanna was different than what he had with both of them, and he didn't want to taint that with bringing in sex. Dream was sure one of them would suggest a dream, but those were just as real to him as this world was to them. Instead, Dream returned to his realm and went back to work.

"Boss?" Matthew asked.

"Yes, Matthew?" Dream replied.

"Is it going to be a problem with Johanna and Hob being around each other? I can imagine it being like a gas explosion if there was the right spark," Matthew replied. He was probably right, but Dream had faith that the two of them seemed to be on the right path, no matter what happened between all three of them in the end.

"No, Matthew, I think they will be just fine."