OMG HI YOU GUYS I HAD A DREAM AND HAD A NEW STORY IDEA AND GOT INSPIRED

Anyone who has found they're way here from Beginning of the End...well, you may see some similarities...or coincidences...hmmmm...

Prologue

You ever have one of those dreams where it's so real…so perfect…that you just know it's a dream?

The kind of dream where you have everything you didn't know you wanted: a house, a dog, a significant other, that perfect sky-blue couch you saw in the window that one time of that high-end store you knew you'd never be able to afford. Maybe it's a dream of you coming home from the perfect job to find dinner on the stove and your kid waiting for you at the door, holding a picture he drew of you because he's so proud of you. Maybe it's a dream that you're in Hawaii, staring out at the ocean, feet in the sand as the water laps over your toes, a smile on your face as you know you're the happiest you'll ever be.

When you wake up, you're not really that surprised, because you were so content, you just knew it had to be a dream.

What if it wasn't a dream? What if it was a premonition? A warning, or a shout-out to start paying attention to your surroundings. You don't really believe in that stuff, but some of those dreams are just too vivid, too rooted in real emotions and feelings to be merely imagined.

Sometimes, the universe has a plan, and god help you if you try to ignore it.

Chapter 1

"Daddy!"

"Not now, sweetie, daddy's sleeping…"

"It's your turn. Get up."

"You get up."

"I'm not doing this again." Movement from the other side of the bed. Sheets rustling, a pillow being tossed at his head. "Your turn. You promised."

"Fine." With a sigh he rolled over, trying to gather his bearings in the dark. He heard grumblings coming from her side of the bed but wisely decided to ignore them, reaching out for his glasses. Stupid things were never where he left them; the eye doctor had assured him he'd get used to them in time, like they'd always been a part of his life, but that had yet to happen in the past five months, so he wasn't expecting things to change anytime soon.

His feet hit the plush carpeting and he stretched his arms overhead, purposely bouncing a little bit to annoy her. A grunt and a foot darting out towards him caused him to stand up with a chuckle, pushing her leg back under the comforter. He made his way towards the doorway and was grateful for once that the little tyke couldn't sleep without the hallway nightlight; it helped him not to run his shoulder into that damn shelf he kept forgetting to raise a few more inches.

"Sweetie?" He pushed open the bedroom door and peered inside. Their daughter was sitting up in bed, hugging her plush warthog that she prized so dearly. Stupid "Uncles Day," with their stupid gifts—

"Daddy, I had a bad dream."

Even in the dark he could see her little pout, her cheeks stained with tears. "Aw, sweetie, it's okay. I'm here. What did you dream about?" He settled down onto the floor next to her bed and laid his head on the edge of her pillow.

She pushed a tangle of red hair out of her eyes, shaking her head. "You an' Mommy were fighting."

"But we never fight!"

"That's not true!"

"Okay, so we fight all the time. But that's because Mommy likes to pick on Daddy."

"That's not true too!"

"Fine, you got me, I like to pick on Mommy. It's all with love," he said with an exaggerated sigh. The giggle that earned was enough to cause his heart to twinge. "So what happened in your dream?"

"I was upstairs playing and you and Mommy started fighting and I don't know why and I went to the stairs and you were both yelling and it made me sad," she said with a sniffle.

"It was just a dream. We haven't yelled at each other all week!"

"Daddy!"

"I know, I know, I can't take anything seriously. Sorry," he said, reaching up to ruffle her hair and wipe her cheeks with the back of his index finger. "But I promise that everything is okay. You know you can trust me."

"I know."

"Do you think you can go back to sleep? I'm very tired."

"Not until you kiss Freckles." She tilted the warthog down to his face and he made an overly-loud kissing noise at one of the tusks.

"Is that better?"

"You didn't try very hard."

"Every day you sound more like your mommy, you know that?"

"Yes!"

"You're lucky I love her so much."

"Not as much as me!"

"Not even close." He laughed and struggled to get to his knees, using the edge of her bed to steady himself. He was getting older and no amount of healthy eating or careful exercise was going to keep his knees from wearing out.

"Good night, daddy."

"Good night, sweet pea. I'll see you in the morning."

She snuggled back down into her blankets and pillow as he slowly backed out of the room, taking care not to step on her various toys lying around, waiting to destroy his feet at any second he didn't pay attention. He swung the door shut, leaving a sliver of space for the nightlight to shine through, and headed back to the bedroom, unsurprisingly awake.

"She dreamed we were fighting," he whispered as he crawled back into bed. She rustled in her sleep and rolled onto her back, yawning as she started to emerge from whatever dream she'd been in.

"What?"

"The kiddo. She dreamed we were fighting and she was really upset. I think I made it better."

"I'm sure you did. She adores you, we both know that," she said through another yawn.

"I know, but it still breaks my heart when she cries. I hope that stops soon."

"What, the crying?" She laugh-snorted. "That'll stop when we die. Just wait till she learns how to play you with tears."

"Oh, I think she's already learned that from you, babe." He snuggled up against her side and slid his leg over hers, pulling her close.

"Hey, careful."

"He's fine," he mumbled, moving his hand to caress her stomach. The bump was just starting to show; they hadn't told anyone yet, but they were running out of time to keep it a secret.

"We don't know it's a boy yet," she said sleepily, tilting her head towards his.

He tucked in his chin so he could kiss the top of her head. "I have a feeling. I'm always right."

"You thought she was going to be a boy."

"Well, I had a fifty-fifty chance. I'll be right this time."

"Mm-hmm."

"Shut up, babe."

"Good night, York."

"Good night, Lina."

"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake—"

"NO."

"—up! Wake up! Wake uppppp…"

The chirping slowed to a baritone drawl and finally silenced as the alarm clock fell to the ground, defeated once and for all.

"That's better…"

"If you don't get up now you're going to be late for class," a voice echoed through the doorway, sounding more stern than usual.

"Shut up! You're not my real dad!"

"I warned you…"

Footsteps retreated and he rolled over in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Another dream, huh?" he muttered quietly, visually counting the cracks along the painted ceiling. He already knew how many there were, but it was comforting all the same. "Lina isn't even a name."

"York! Get up! You're my ride today, remember?"

"Fuck off!" He rolled over to grab a shoe from the side of the bed, sitting up as he hurled it towards the door. It connected loudly and he heard a shout from the other side, followed by a string of cursing that got louder as the door swung open.

"What was that for?!"

"I told you to go away!"

"Did you have that stupid dream again? Is that why you're so fucking crabby?"

"No."

"Oh my god, it's just a dream."

"You clearly don't get it, Wash."

"Then explain it to me."

"I already have—I feel like…I'm missing something in life, but I don't know if it's supposed to be this girl, or just…I don't know."

Wash reached up to run his fingers through his short, military-appropriate blonde hair, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, it sounds like you're the one who doesn't get it. Dreams aren't real. They don't predict the future or anything."

"Wow, such a romantic."

"I'm just a realist. Now get the fuck up and get dressed so we can get going. I've got papers to grade."

"Okay, you asked for it." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, letting the sheet fall from where it had been bunched up around his waist. Wash turned around immediately, his hands flying to his face to block the view.

"Oh GOD!"

"Take it in, man."

"PHRASING!" Wash ran down the hallway, crashing into picture frames as he darted for safety. York burst out laughing, bending over to pick up a stray pair of boxers from the floor.

"That was really uncalled for, you know," Wash said grumpily, staring out the car window as they drove down the freeway.

"Oh, it was funny, shut up."

"Whatever."

"Stop being so damn grumpy, you sour-puss."

"I swear, you're just an overgrown child."

York swerved to avoid a pothole and Wash bumped his head against the window, swearing loudly. "Hey, sorry. Pothole."

"Your face is a pothole."

"You gotta work on those comebacks, buddy."

"Your face has to work on comebacks—yeah, shut up."

York reached out to hit the button on his stereo, turning off the quiet stream of radio music that had been filling the car. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"If you promise to stop hurting me, physically and psychologically," Wash responded.

"Shut up. I wanted to ask you if you ever think about…you know, settling down."

"With you? Hard pass."

"Wash—"

"Oh, what, I can't give you shit sometimes? Seriously though, yeah, I do. I think about it a lot."

York glanced over to see Wash staring out the window. "Really?"

"Did you think I wasn't human or something? Of course I want to settle down." He could detect a hint of annoyance in Wash's voice.

"No, it's just—I don't know. You never really seemed into dating. It's been a while since you've gone out with anyone."

"Just haven't had time to think about that stuff lately. I don't really dwell on it. I figure it'll work out someday."

"Yeah…I hope it does."

"For me or you?"

"Well, both of us." York smiled. "I don't want any of us to be alone forever."

"North and I aren't enough for you now?"

He looked over to see Wash glaring at him, lower lip slightly stuck out. "I didn't say that, you moron."

"You insinuated it."

"No, you insinuated it. I'm perfectly happy with the way things are. Hell, I had sex a couple days ago. I want to settle down someday, but for right now, I'm pretty good with being thirty and single."

"What about all these dreams you keep having?"

"Who knows, man. Probably my subconscious trying to fuck with me. I should just ignore it."

"Probably a good idea."

"Hey man, lunch break." York knocked on the door to Wash's office, finding him practically buried in paperwork.

Wash glanced up with a smile. He reached up with his free hand that wasn't gripped around a red pen and pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Thank god, these essays are destroying my will to live. Hang on." Dropping the pen, he pushed his chair back and stretched his arms overhead. He let out a low groan as he walked over to the doorway where his coat was hanging on the back of the door, bending his arms behind his back, causing his shirt to ride up and expose a strip of his stomach.

A young woman sitting across the hallway from the office door leaned to the side in an attempt to see Wash stretching, her lips twitching into a smile as she reached for her phone on her lap. York caught her eye and her cheeks flushed pink as she quickly glanced away, looking anywhere but at them, absorbing her attention with her phone that was suddenly very fascinating. He chuckled and nodded towards her when Wash looked at him.

"Yeah, I know," he said with a grimace, obviously embarrassed. York grinned and shoved him into the hallway, following behind him.

"So does that happen a lot?" York asked around a mouthful of noodles.

Wash shrugged slightly, his face still a shade of light-ish red. "Sometimes," he admitted, glancing around. The university cafeteria was only half full, as most students were still in class at 2pm. It's why they usually took a later lunch. "I mean, it's definitely not the first time."

"And how have you not been getting laid non-stop?!"

"Because I'm not going to sleep with the kids I teach?!"

York started laughing as a few students looked over at them with disgusted expressions. "I think you said that a little loudly."

"Fuck."

"Aw, don't worry about it. Hey, have you ever hooked up with any of the other teachers?" he asked, reaching for one of Wash's fries.

"No, and I really wish you'd stop asking."

"Hey, someone has to look out for your wellbeing."

"I'm doing fine—"

"Ooh, fries!" A hand reached over Wash's shoulder and snatched a few fries from the tray.

"Dammit, North!"

"Thanks, buddy." Their friend North settled into a chair next to Wash as he chewed on the fries. "So what's the crisis today?"

"No crisis, just co-eds lusting after Wash," York summarized.

Wash shot him a look. "It's not like that!"

"Same old?" North asked, ignoring Wash's protests.

"Same old."

"I hate you guys so much."

"I heard about this party tonight, you guys want to go?" North leaned back into his chair, stretching his arms out behind him.

"Where at?"

"One of the bars downtown, I have the details in a text. Friend-of-a-friend type of deal. We can meet at my place around nine and head over."

"Nine? It's a school night!"

"You're a teacher, Wash. Live a little."

"I gotta side with Wash on this one," York interrupted. "I haven't been sleeping very well lately; I can't do a late night tonight. Plus, we're going hunting on Saturday, so you need to stop running yourself ragged."

"You two are no fun." North sighed and sat up, shaking his head. "I've got to run. See you later? Want to get dinner instead?"

"I'm making steaks tonight, you're welcome to come over," Wash offered.

"Sure, I'll be there around seven. See you later!" He stood up and waved as he headed down the hallway towards the east parking lot. York let out a long exhale and leaned forward onto an elbow.

"Everything okay?"

"Just tired."

York stared out the windshield, focusing on a small blue flower that was sprouting out from underneath a small pile of leaves on the ground. He could still hear students wandering around the parking lot, chatting about classes and complaining about homework, and began to let his mind wander back to the days of college. Man, things were so much less complicated back then. Sometimes he wished he could go back…but then he remembered the work and how badly his grades suffered after the epic house parties he would host, and he knew he was better off trying to be an adult.

He just wished he could figure out why he kept having those weird dreams.

Maybe Wash was right; dreams couldn't predict the future, that was stupid. He should really just forget about them and move on.

…Oh, who was he kidding; of course he believed in that crap. It's why he was so popular in high school and college—all the girls heard about how romantic he was and wanted to date him. He never had a problem getting a date to even the lamest of events. As a matter of fact he still didn't have a problem finding someone to hook up with, but each time it felt more like he was only delaying giving his heart away to someone who didn't really deserve his full affection. Which was fine, most of the time…but he was really starting to want that something more, and he wasn't sure where to find it.

As he stared out the window at the flower, he let his vision turn blurry and the flower morphed out of focus, creating a small patch of scratchy blue across his eyesight. He blinked and it reformed, looking just as it did before.

"Weird," he said aloud, for no one but himself to hear.