Okay, only rule, constructive flames only. This is probably going to be a two-shot. If you can't guess who the girl is, I will be sad. And once you do guess, tell me and maybe you'll get a mini candy bar. This is set post-Shukaku extraction.

Disclaimer: If you think I'd be writing on if I owned Naruto, you're on crack. Obviously, I don't own Naruto.

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Sun shone in through the curtains and a certain person with tousled red hair shifted. He opened his eyes and frowned. Why was it that every time he slept, it was always that dream, always that girl with the wavering, teary voice? The disturbing sequence of sounds and the awkward conversations. Why? He rolled over to his side in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. It didn't work. There was no way he'd get back to sleep. he never could after those dreams. It would be so nice if just once he could get comfortable again and go back to sleep. He grumbled about it out loud briefly. It wasn't as if he even slept very often anyway.

Being, of course, the home of such a powerful demon for so long made it difficult to get over a self-induced insomnia. The damn tanuki had only been gone for a year or so and Gaara had yet to adjust to sleeping every night; usually he slept two or three nights in a , what little sleep he gained was occupied by that , to be fair, the dream wasn't ruining his sleep because he still felt rested from sleep. Nope, it just bothered him in his waking hours since he seemed to spend the entirety of them thinking about what it meant. He had been so distracted last week that his idiot brother almost landed a decent hit on him. That stupid puppeteer was more insufferable than usual the remainder of the day.

He would feel so much better if only he could figure it out; puzzles had always annoyed him. , he had come to want, against all reason, to help the girl. She was obviously distressed and possibly mentally unstable - like he should talk - and it tweaked what was left of, or maybe what was turning into, his heart. Bah, he couldn't stand to think after the dream, damn allthis sentimental crap. He dreaded the thought that a figment of his imagination (he was surprised he had any imagination really) could make him feel that way, it was a little like the almost friendship with Naruto. Damn blond,it must be his fault, he'd found a comrade and now his mind had invented somone else to keep him company. As if he really needed company!

His mind wandered to the question he'd asked himself upon waking. He never managed to find an answer to that one. Why was it always her in that strange dream? He remembered the first time he'd had the dream, about four or five months ago. It was one of the first times that he hadn't awakened within an hour or two of falling asleep. As he'd slept that night, he had begun to realize he'd slipped into a dream and the possibility startled him. He hadn't had a dream since he was a child, and even then the dreams had not been so…psychotic. Why the dream chose this point in his life he had no idea, he hadn't thought it possible to suddenly begin having such vivid and realistic dreams with no apparent cause. Then there was the oddness of the dream itself.

It was an empty white space, kind of like the space behind your eyelids except it was white. There was a floor because he could tell that he wasn't floating; rather he was could see his body, but only just barely. Everything was sort of blurry and faded. The air was heavy, and it seemed as though it would muffle all sounds. He soon realized that the air dod not muffle sounds at all. A feminine voice rang out in a sob. He cringed, of all things there could be, he truly wished a crying female wasn't involved. This sort of dream could not end well. Then the crying ceased abruptly and a slap was heard. Gaara tried to move, but was held fast in place. By what he had no idea, it was like a pressure that increased proportionally to the amount of force he exerted.

"You worthless beggar! Why can't you be more than a little weakling and an idiot! I should have abandoned you a long time ago." Another hit sounded and the man's voice called another over. "You take her and teach her a lesson as punishment, I don't want to see her until I have to next!" the man's voice commanded.

"Yes sir, it shall be done," now a different voice was speaking, still male but a younger one than the first. The tone was clipped and respectful. Footsteps receded from Gaara's hearing.

Just what was going on here, Gaara wondered? He could tell that it was not going to be a pleasant dream.

"Come here little one," the younger male coaxed, "I won't hurt you." There was a pause. "Unless you disobey me, so just come over here and I'll begin your discipline"

Gaara could hear a slight rustling of fabric. He thought he heard the fabric, most likely silk, rip a little. The girl cried out.

"There you are," crowed the young man's voice.

Gaara winced and began to feel increasingly sick as cries of pain and sobs came from the girl and her captor grunted every so often. Gaara had a very good idea of what was happening and it made him cringe. Nothing happened as he struggled, the invisible force holding him fast. The noises continued for a few minutes but they felt like an eternity for him to be forced to listen to those was repulsed. He strained against the bonds to no avail and only managed to tire himself. He was panting for breath but that was not enough to block the sounds either.

"There now, that wasn't so bad now was it little one?" the voice cooed, then changed its tone to angry. "Shut up and stop whimpering wench!"

The hiccups and other noises stopped immediately.

"That's better." Gaara waits to hear what will be said next and feels his ears pop. It is more painful than usual and is accompanied by a squeezing pressure on his head.

Suddenly, all noise stopped and it was as though the dream-world had been replaced with a vacuum; he couldn't even hear the pounding rhythm of his heart beat. Then he was free of the invisible bonds and a quiet sobbing was faintly detectable.

"Hey," the irate redhead interjected, "shut up and stop crying, you're only a dream and I don't want to listen to this."

She eeped and stumbled over her words tearfully,"Who said that, who are you?"

"I said that," Gaara grumbled, "Now will you leave? You're interrupting my sleep."

"Why are you so rude? I haven't done anything to you. This is a dream anyway, and dreams should be nicer." She was defensive and humiliated.

"I really don't care what you think, and dreams are never nice." Gaara knew this from peronal experience, he had never had a pleasant dream. In fact, this was probably the least unpleasant dream he'd ever had, even as a child.

"Not anymore," she whipered so softly that Gaara almost missed it. Gaara felt an odd and painful feeling in his chest. He couldn't place the sensation for several moments. It was regret, but why should he regret his words to a phantom? He was angry at himself for the regret, he had no reason to feel that way. Anger was not a stranger, but feeling regret for anyone, ever, was an alien emotion. But still, it was there.

"Why are you here, are you a demon or a ghost or something. Do I need to help you or something to make you go away?" these words tore out of his mouth before he'd registered the implications of the fact that he, Sabaku no Gaara, should offer any sort of aid to any living creature, even if it was to get her to leave him be. It astonished and enraged him momentarily. How dare some dream - a figment of his own mind - try this sort of trick on him!

When the answer came, it caught him by surprise, so wrapped up in his own thoughts, "No of course I'm not! And I don't need your help, I wish you'd leave too, you're very rude." Thenthere was silence and Gaara'd thought she'd left him to his sleep when, as if to temper her earlier words," Thank you for your kind offer though."

He was speechless, how could someone so obviously downtrodden refuse aid? What was the point of this dream anyway? He was completely mystified.

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Her head rested against the dresser. Being in such an awkward position for so long had formed a crick in her neck, the ache rousing her. She felt stiff all over and barely rested, as if she hadn't slept at all. How long had she been asleep? According to the clock it had been five hours. That would have to do. If only she didn't have that dream anymore, if only it didn't plague her sleep. It was only sometimes that it happened, maybe once or twice in a week, and never for very long. She hated those dreams as much as she welcomed the cessation of pain a dream companion brought.

Every time she was forced to relive an old memory from the darkest part of her mind, often the same one, but not hated the fact that she had nearly perfect memory. She still remembers everything that's happened to her and everyone she's ever met either by face or by name. Most of her memories were fine. Those few memories of him though, those she sincerely wished she could forget. Those memories were like a virus, spreading and tainting her happier memories until she could think of nothing else but that horrid...man, no, he was a thing, a monster!

She fazed back to the very first time she'd had the dream that had brought her a companion. It was five months ago from next Wednesday. That dream had been the most painful. It was memory-dream of the first time that she'd been 'disciplined' by her cousin at the leave to do so from her father. She had been in her room crying after being teased mercilessly by her relatives, even though she was of higher status than they were.

Father stormed in and slapped her hard across the face, she stopped crying immediately. "You worthless beggar! Why can't you be more than a little weakling and an idiot! I should have abandoned you a long time ago." Her Father slapped her again. Her mind reeled, why was father being so cruel? He summoned her cousin and ordered that she be punished for her weakness and said he didn't want to see her. Her heart almost broke, what had she done to deserve such venom? Wasn't he supposed to love and support her? The cousin affirmed his command. Father left the room.

"Come here little one, I won't hurt you," he coaxed. She began to feel some hope and moved forward a little. "Unless you disobey me so just come over here and I'll begin your discipline." Her heart sank, and she tried to shrink back when he grabbed he arm roughly and she cried out. Her cousin smiled a smile that she would remember for the rest of her life as he gloated. She prepared to feel the blows when, to her horror, he began grabbing her clothes off, much too quickly for her to react. She tried to get a hold on some of her clothes and grab them back. She missed and the smooth fabric slid out of her reach. She got up and tried to run and get her clothes and was shoved backwards and onto the floor. She started whimpering. This was what Father meant by punishment, how could he let this cousin do such things to her?! She fought and tried to run again but he grabbed her by the arms with a bruising force; she cried out and sobbed in pain and humiliation as he roughly pulled and manipulated her body. She squirmed to try to keep him from her but it was in vain and when he entered, painfully rupturing her hymen, she felt as though the world had stopped and she would drown in pain and suffering. She bit back a scream. She sobbed and she waited those agonizing minutes for him to be done and off of her. How could this be real? Surely it was a nightmare and she could just wake up. Her eyes glazed over in despair and she shuddered in disgust when she felt him ejaculate, this was not just a bad dream after all. But how could it be real? She just wanted it all to end, or better, to never have happened.

There, that wasn't so bad now was it little one?" he crooned at her. She tried to get up and escape, letting out a choked sob as he grabbed her and pulled her back to the floor. He was angry now. "Shut up and stop whimpering wench!" She stopped and curled up into a ball.

"That's better."

It was there that the memory portion of her dream whatever merciful kami was out there that the memory was was usually the point where she woke up, but this time was different. What was she going to have to endure now? She was just glad right now that what ever it was, she at least appeared to be wearing the pjs she wore to bed that night. Not that that was much comfort. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, crying softly into her shirtsleeves.A voice interrupted her caustically, a male. Briefly she wished for him to die, but couldn't work up the nerve to really wish for him to die. After all, it was her dream and she could get rid of him, except that would be cruel, even to a dream-person.

She ventured a question unsteadily. She was alarmed that she saw no one but herself and her heart was racing. She kept watch warily for the intruder.

The voice, the male voice, replied curtly,"I said that." He even had the audacity to tell her off for disturbing his sleep. She felt sick and angry. She tried to reason with her dream-person to make him be nicer, and he just shot a retort back. She wondered if he'd been in her mind during the whole dream. She trembled and shook with humiliation that someone, even a dream someone, could have seen what she had just relived and fervently hoped he didn't see anything.

She heard him suddenly blurt out an accusation that was she a demon or some such thing, she almost wished she were, because then nobody could take advantage of her smaller size and weight for long. She smiled a sad smile, it was a nice thought to help her, but she couldn't leave her own dream.

"Thank you for your kind offer."

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