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Inspired by the Herc episode, Yes Virginia...

Chapter One

The patrons of the bar chattered on mindlessly through the night. The normal endless calls for refills and the occasional laughter from some raucous joke did nothing to disturb the peaceful, normal air of the establishment. A TV was on, with some football game. A loud cheer went up as the favorite team scored a point. A couple of younger people, college kids, would go up on the small karaoke stage every so often, butchering some hip song that was popular at the time.

At around nine p.m. two men walked through the door, heading toward the booth closest to the stage. One of them carried a case, which he set down on the table while the other one headed onto the stage. The man with the case pulled out a guitar and followed his friend. He sat onto a stool that his friend had provided next to the machine and plugged it in to the karaoke machine. The one still standing conversed with his partner for a few seconds, and then flipped through the list of songs. Finally choosing one that his partner agreed with, he straightened and stood before the microphone.

The bar became a bit quieter than usual. It wasn't unusual for two people to do a song but no one really brought their own instrument very often. The man smiled at his friend then turned back to the audience. As the song started up, his friend began playing along, strumming his guitar with the song in perfect harmony. Now they had the audience's attention. The man at the microphone smiled and began his part of the duo.

All day
Staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night
Hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a
Breakdown
I don't know why
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Me
Talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
I know
I know they've all been talking 'bout me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong
With me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow
I've lost my mind
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
I been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they'll come to get me
Yeah, they're taking me away
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Hey, how I used to be
How I used to be, yeah
Well I'm just a little unwell
How I used to be
How I used to be

As the two men finished the song together, the bar erupted into cheers. There were shouts of 'Encore! Encore!' The singer waved to the crowd, his bright smile seemed to light up the whole bar. The one with the guitar flipped through the songs again. The bar settled down in anticipation. There was still some entertainment to go yet.

The two men finished four songs and left the stage, much to the disappointment of the crowd. The singer waved to the cheering audience and the two went back to their booth. They sat down and ordered drinks, the one putting his guitar back in its case. Their drinks came quickly, compliments of the establishment. The two men thanked the waitress and toasted one another. As the excitement settled down, the bar returned to its air of normalcy.

Observing them, the two men, in appearance, were drastically different. The singer was smaller, more compact that his six-foot muscular companion. Underneath the tight jeans and white t-shirt, one could see a fit, athletic body. His golden blonde hair fell just above his shoulder and his bright, sky blue eyes were framed by silver, wire-framed glasses.

His friend across from him with the guitar case was no less handsome. His tall, muscular body could be seen under the slightly baggier jeans, grey turtleneck and brown leather jacket. His honey brown hair reached his shoulders, framing his handsome face. His ice blue eyes shone with laughter as his friend related his final day before the break.

"I'm telling you, they weren't listening to a damn thing I was saying. They just sat there, like sheep! I think I heard snoring."

The larger man laughed. "Ian, it was the day before break. Naturally their minds were occupied with what they were going to do during break, not the French Revolution."

The blonde man, Ian, chuckled. "Yeah, well, you should have seen the looks on their faces when I told them that the lesson was going to be included in the next test. I think most of them will be spending break in the library."

Both men laughed. "Ian you are incorrigible." The larger man said.

"Come on Henry. Don't tell me you didn't have students dozing off in your class?"

"Yes I did." Henry said. "But unlike your class, mine was far enough ahead that we spent most of the day debating."

Ian huffed. "It's only one class that's behind. The rest were caught up and one was even further along than the others. Not all of us can be Anthro teachers you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henry scowled at his friend, the glare not reaching his eyes.

Ian's eyes twinkled with mirth and good-natured humor. "Nothing, Henry; nothing at all."

Henry growled, reached over and slapped the blonde on his arm. Ian merely smirked and waved the hand away. But they both sported large smiles and their eyes shone with laughter and promised retribution. Then the two had an easy discussion of the plans for after break, their class schedules and such. They had decided to make this road trip during the break and so far were having a good time.

Both men taught at a small university in Illinois, Ian as a History teacher and Henry as a teacher in Anthropology. They both had a Masters in teaching, and a PH.D in their respective subjects. Ian was 36, two years older than his friend. The two men had met in college, immediately hitting it off. Anyone who saw the two together would guess that they had been friends all of their lives. Some who knew them better would sooner peg the two as brothers.

The two carried on through the night, having a couple drinks but not enough to get drunk. The talked about various things, from university life to the football game that was now back up. After being on the road for the past few days it was nice to just sit and relax.

A couple more people went up to use the karaoke machine but no one had captured the audience quite like the two men. They weren't even planning on having such a large audience the way they did. They had just come up with the idea and went with it. Henry had brought his guitar with him so the two men decided to stop at the bar and sing karaoke before finding a hotel.

The night began to wind down as it got later. Henry and Ian remained at the booth for quite some time, chatting away mostly about mundane and ordinary things. Every once and a while, laughter would erupt from a badly told joke. When it reached around midnight, only the two men and a few here and there were left in the bar. The waitress was now serving water and coffee. Ian ordered his black and Henry ordered only water. The man couldn't stand coffee. Occasionally she flirted with either one of the two men, especially when the blonde flirted back. The big one however, seemed to be shy and even glared good naturally at his friend.

Henry sat a little straighter in his chair when Ian yawned in the middle of his sentence. The shadows under the blonde's eyes and the lines of exhaustion were more pronounced than they had been before. The man was exhausted. Henry frowned at the posture Ian suddenly adopted. He knew that posture; it was the one Ian used every time he wanted to hide something so Henry wouldn't worry. Well, he wasn't buying it this time.

Henry leaned forward, dropping his voice to a lower tone. "Ian, what's wrong?"

Ian blinked a few times in surprise then shook his head. "Nothing Henry, I'm just fine."

Henry snorted. "I haven't seen you look like this since college. You look like you haven't slept properly in days."

"I'm fine Henry. It's nothing you need to-" Ian was cut off by the look on Henry's face. His jaw was set in determination and his eyes pierced Ian with a look that clearly said, 'you will tell me or I will get it out of you one way or another.' Henry saved that look for when Ian was being particularly difficult. Ian sighed in resignation and leaned forward on the table, head in one hand. It was just a stupid dream, and not something he wanted to worry his friend over, right?

So then why was he so bothered by this?

Ian schooled himself into his best impassive face. "Henry, it is just stress." He gave a bit of a dramatic sigh he hoped Henry would buy. "I was staying up late to do work a few days before break. It's my fault. This road trip is actually doing me some good, though sleeping in a car isn't exactly comfortable either." Ian laughed, but Henry noticed that it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Henry narrowed his eyes at his friend. There was something more to it, Henry was sure. But in response to Henry's glare, Ian countered with impassiveness and an innocent look that Henry didn't buy one bit. But he also saw the gleam of determination in his friend's eyes and knew that further probing would do no good. Ian could be stubborn to the point of ridiculousness, Henry knew. So he resigned, however reluctantly, that Ian would have to tell him on his own.

"Alright, but let's stop at that motel we saw a while back." He would weasel it out of him later.

Ian grinned. He knew why Henry was agreeing. He thought he would be able to weasel it out of Ian later... Just shows how much he knew. But the idea of a hotel sounded good to Ian. He needed a break from the road. A moving car wasn't the best place to get some sleep. He agreed readily to the hotel.

Since it was so late the two men decided to immediately retire. Henry could tell that his blonde friend was exhausted and needed the rest. The two traded a few barbs and jokes before turning in.

Henry was worried about Ian. He saw the way the man had practically collapsed on the hotel bed, yet he almost seemed reluctant to sleep. Maybe it was a nightmare that was bothering Ian? But Henry doubted it. Somehow he could tell it was something deeper than that. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew.

Ever since Henry could remember he had always had a sort of sixth sense. He could tell when people were lying to him or deceiving him and it was especially powerful where Ian was concerned. But he knew there was nothing he could do about it at this point.

Henry thought for a moment on what could be bothering his best friend. Was it a nightmare? Odd dreams? For a moment, Henry suddenly felt an urge to seriously talk with Ian, but both men were exhausted. With a reluctant sigh he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Ian, however, was having a little more difficulty sleeping than his friend. He mentally scolded himself. He was being scared over a stupid dream. Of course, every time the nightmare occurred he awoke screaming and drenched in sweat. He could never really remember the nightmare. All he could remember of it was fire, a demon in black robes, a dagger and dying. He remembered an endless abyss, a darkness swallowing his very soul.

His other dreams hadn't been that bad. Sometimes they were filled with monsters and horrible looking beasts, but those dreams were different. In those dreams he would see himself, fighting those creatures.

Ian wasn't a lazy man. He worked out regularly with Henry. Ian could defend himself if he needed to, but Ian could never see himself pulling off the moves he saw in his dreams. He saw them all the time in movies and on TV, but he was a college professor, not an athlete. He just never had the desire to learn basic martial arts.

Most of the time though, there would be someone with him, fighting by his side in his dreams. Ian could never get a good look at his face but the strange man felt very familiar. In all the years he had had these kinds of dreams, not once had Ian been able to figure out his identity. It was always just out of reach.

He saw himself fighting, at first, normal men. Normally ten or fifteen of they would surround him. But he would easily take care of all of them with minimal injuries, occasionally getting hit on the head with a stool or a chair.

Then there were the monsters. They were like apparitions out of mythology books. He saw hydras and Minotaurs, huge snakes rising up out of the sea. He always felt fear when he fought them, but it was nothing compared to the nightmare. In these dreams he would fight regardless instead of wanting to run in fear. It was in these ones where he most often saw the other man fighting with him. He never saw the face, but Ian had the feeling that he knew the man.

If anything, the dreams were entertaining, fun. He thought about them often, and was even thinking of writing down some of those fights and adventures. The only thing stopping him were the names of the people he saw in his dreams. Sure, he could make up names but it didn't seem right. The two men, himself and the mystery man, had names, he was sure of it.

He never told Henry though. For some reason, he felt as if he shouldn't. But Ian frowned at that thought; it wasn't as if Henry would call him crazy and lock him up somewhere. The two of them were too close; Henry would believe him and Ian knew it. But the thought still made him uncomfortable. Many times he thought that he should just tell Henry what was going on; tell Henry about the strange dreams of himself as a monster-slaying warrior and the nightmare that always left a cold feeling in his very soul and scared him beyond belief.

But secretly, Ian was a little ashamed that he was letting a nightmare intimidate him. Dreams were nothing more than manifestation of the subconscious. He was being childish and feared being told so from his best friend.

He thought back to the nightmare. He started having it two days before they decided to go on the road trip. It was beyond him why his subconscious would dream up such a horrifying thing. It was natural to have dreams of one dying, but that dream frightened more than any other nightmare he had ever had. But as Ian thought about it, the thing about it that made him miserable the most, was the image of the man that was in his other dreams. He remembered lying in the man's arms as he died. He couldn't see the face, but he felt the profound sadness as Ian died. That he was making this man miserable, that he was breaking his heart with his death, frightened Ian more than anything else in the dream.

Ian signed and flopped around on the bed, reveling in the soft pillows and blankets. Sleeping in a car for days was making him feel stiff. For a moment, he had the oddest thought that it was paradise compared to sleeping on the ground.

Ian paused to reflect a bit on their destination. They had left for break three days ago and had a week of break left. The two of them had decided to just go for a drive somewhere. They had no particular destination in mind. They were just driving.

Ian sat up as a sudden thought just hit him. Come to think of it, neither man knew where they were going. Neither one of them had even thought of where and when they would begin to turn back so they could get back to the college on time for classes.

Ian ran a hand through his curly blonde hair then turned to stare at the other bed, where Henry lay. The other man was in a deep sleep and was snoring slightly. Ian shook his head and laid back down, turning on his side to face the window. He thought it was very odd. The plan to drive was spontaneous. There had been no plans or preparation. They had just packed a duffel bag with clothes, personal items and laptops. Ian had even brought along his guitar as an afterthought. They had no idea where they were going. Hell, Ian didn't even know if they were in Colorado anymore and he had been the one driving for the last half hour before they stopped at the bar!

As Ian succumbed to sleep he resolved to talk about this with Henry seriously tomorrow. He didn't understand what was going on and it was bothering him. Tomorrow he would talk to the other man and discuss the rest of their trip. Oddly enough, the fact that they had just been driving with no direction didn't seem to bother Ian. On the contrary, he felt as if they were heading in the right direction. Ian groaned and fell asleep. He didn't want to think on this further until tomorrow. He just hoped the dreams would stay away tonight.

My other Herc fic. Read and review please!