Dream Eater (m|m)

Chapter 7

The first thing I'm aware of is the bare branches of trees overhead, laced like skeletal fingers against a flat white sky. I blink a few times, feeling the hard earth under my back and the dampness of leaf-mold rising from the ground.

The second thing I'm aware if is that I can't breathe.

My whole body is paralyzed, and my lungs are locked somewhere between an in-breath and an exhalation. In my mind, I'm struggling wildly, but my body betrays nothing of my distress, remaining motionless as the corpse it's about to become.

Damien leans into my field of vision, frowning down at me.

"Fuck," he says, matter-of-factly.

Then he kisses me.

Or that's what I think until I feel my lungs inflate with the air of his breath. It's enough to break whatever had me in its grip, and I sit up, coughing violently.

"Breathe, breathe," he says, in a surprisingly soothing tone, rubbing his hand between my shoulders. "You're alright."

When I've got my breath enough to speak, I put the ability to immediate use. 

"What the fuck was that!?" I ask, going for calm but coming off a little shrieky."Who were those people, who are you, and..." I glance around at the less-than-urban surroundings. "Where the fuck are we?"

Infuriatingly, he laughs. "Let me see...teleportation...a bunch of assholes...Damien Knight...and..." He takes stock of our environs. "...the Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, England."

"England?" I squeak.

He smirks. "What? Where did you want to go?"

I hold up my hands. "No, no--England is fine." 

I don't know if full-body paralysis is a normal reaction to teleportation or a one-off thing, but I'm not eager to find out.

His smile widens to a grin for a brief moment before disappearing like smoke on the wind. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I've been a fool, and now you're caught in the snare of my mistakes."

"I don't understand," I say, feeling lost.

"Don't you?" he looks at me, and his dark eyes are wells leading straight to a hell of despair.

"Not really," I say. "I mean, I gather I was right about you being Fallen, and that something bad happened to you, and those other Fallen were after you for something...but that's about it."

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. Then he shifts himself so we're sitting back to back, leaning against one another.

The leaves under us are dry and brown, and the forest is quiet, in a peaceful-but-creepy kind of way.

"My name is...no. My name was Dantalian. I commanded many legions of Fallen, and was generally held in good favor by the Higher Powers. That is, until I met him." He swallows, and his voice grows tight. "Sakariel."

He pauses. 

I wait.

When he continues, he voice is quiet and desolate as winter. 

"Sakariel was my grace. He was beauty. He was...Divine. I should never have fallen in love with him, but I did. And then, by some perverse miracle, he fell in love with me. I think I know why, now. He was insane."

He swallows hard, and his voice is softer when he goes on.

"He had this plan to overthrow...everything. He wanted a new system. Laws based on...fairness, of all things. On merit. He hated the cold calculations that underly the Universe. The math of chances, of impartial fate. He wanted something better. Something kinder."

He sighs.

"He went too far. Challenged the Highest Throne. They killed him for it. And as for me, my punishment was..."

"To live and remember," I supply, thinking of his dreams.

He nods. "Finally, I escaped here, to this Realm. I possessed a suitable body, sealed my memories, and hoped I'd live a normal human life-span in peaceful oblivion. But some memories just can't be kept down, and the dreams started."

"And then, me," I say. "I'm sorry. I guess this is my fault. If I hadn't told you I was dream-eater, you might never have suspected you were anything but human, and those other Fallen would never found you. I'm guessing they tracked you somehow?"

"Yes. When I used my power, it was like a beacon drawing them right to me."

He leans his head back so it rests on my shoulder. "Don't blame yourself for that. You had no way of knowing, and it's my fault for handling it all so badly in the first place."

I can't really argue with that, so I say nothing.

"What will you do now?" I ask.

I feel him peel himself away from my back, and turn to look. He's watching me, eyes dark beneath perfectly winged brows.

"You mean, what will we do now?" he asks.

"I..."

This time, there's no mistaking it when he kisses me. He pushes me back into the soft layers of fallen leaves, and his mouth is hot and devouring against mine.

Momentarily overcome, I arch against him, giving in to instinct and desire. I feel him, hot and hard through his clothes between my legs, and for a moment all I want is for him to fuck me, here in the open, under the shadows of strange trees.

Then a sliver of sense returns, and I push him away.

"Stop. I can't."

He raises himself and rolls away from me, sitting up and grasping his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry... You...You remind me of him. Of my Sakariel. Before everything went to shit. Before..." He draws a ragged breath. "I'm sorry."

Wonderful. Prince of Hell on the rebound, and he lands on me.

"It's okay," I say, putting a hand to his shoulder. "I just...I'm not ready for...whatever that was."

He looks up at me, and suddenly he looks more familiar. More like the rich asshole, Damien Knight, who first hired me to take care of his nightmares. "Let's get out of here. What d'you say?"

I nod. "Sure."

He takes my hand and helps me to my feet. Then he sets off through the trees, seemingly without a doubt about where he's going. After a moment of rapid-fire reality-checking, I follow.

We walk. And walk.

I always thought England was all cities and gardens, and cute villages, but this forest seems endless. Finally, we find a road, and then a little town. By the time we're among real streets and buildings, I'm tired, hungry, and willing to do just about anything for a drink of water.

"Did you manage to hang on to any of that money I gave you?" Damien asks.

"Yeah." I pull out one of the envelopes of cash from the back pocket of my jeans. I don't know what happened to the other. I hand it to him.

"Okay. Let's see if there's a bank or travel agency that will change it for us. Then...well, we'll go from there."

I catch his arm.

"Listen--Damien, or whoever you are--I just want to go home. I...I'm just a dream-eater. Whatever's going on with you, it's way above my pay-grade."

He grabs my jaw, none-too gently. "No, you listen, little bird, I get it. You're scared. Well, believe it or not, so am I. And right now, I'm your best chance of getting out of this alive. So shut up, and do as I say, and maybe--just maybe--I'll get you back to your meaningless, empty, but comfortably familiar existence in one piece. Okay?"

My eyes sting. 'Little bird' is what Dante calls me. Whether he knows this somehow, or it's just coincidence is beyond me, but it strikes me like a knife in the chest.

I nod, doing my best not to let him see my tears.

"Good." He lets me go and turns away. There's something of pain in the set of his shoulders, but he sets off towards the nearest bank without another word.