A/N: 'Nother Storyo. :P

Disclaimer: Come on now, it's nearly seven in the morning and I ain't been to bed yet. Of course I don't own the Boosh. I'm sleeping in a camp-bed, for God's sake.

Warnings: None

Deal with Darkness

He cries in his sleep.

Has a bad dream.

I didn't know that of course, not until I started watching him sleep. Whoa there, don't get the wrong idea, I didn't just start watching him like a purvy geography teacher, it was because he called something out one night, and I put the beside light on, thinking he was awake.

It started one night, a few weeks back. We don't usually go to bed at the same time, cos I get into bed early and he gets into bed so early it's the next day.

I try to get him to stay in a few nights, but it doesn't generally work; he just goes all pouty and marches out anyway.

Yeah, so this one night he stayed in to watch reruns on the telly and I was still up tidying the flat and putting the bin bags in their D.R.A's and he ended up going to bed before me. Eventually, I got in, and just a few minutes later he called out:

"Howard..."

I thought I might have woken him up when I tripped over the wire of his straighteners he'd left like a death-trap, so I put my bedside lamp on.

He was still asleep though, looking like Camden's Princess with his hair all splayed around the pillow, and when I looked closer there were tears running down his cheeks and all leaking from his eyes. He looked really distressed; I've never seen him like that...

Thing is, he's been acting different lately, not in front of people of course, not when the Camden elite might be looking, but when we're alone. He doesn't answer me when I talk to him- I know what you're thinking, "no surprise there then," but you can stop right there, cos this is different. It's like he's in a trance, he just stares into space with this troubled expression on his face, and if I snap at him for not hearin' a word I say he just apologises.

Believe me, the Little Man I've come to know never apologises, not like this, with meaning, no sir.

He's been getting tired too. I've never met anyone with as much energy as Vince; he likes to believe he's this creature of the night that doesn't rely on sleep like the rest of the world, but lately, he's started coming home earlier and even falling asleep on the couch. He flat out denies he's been feeling tired, but I've seen him when he thinks no one's looking, leaning on the counter with his eyes half closed, yawning, or closing his eyes behind one of his magazines.

He's tired, and I think these bad dreams are to blame.

I've been thinking of asking him for a couple of nights now; it's not nice watching him cry. I don't know if to wake him up or what, cos he's changed since the days of the Zooniverse; he's found himself a right attitude. I don't wanna go wakin' him up and then have him strutting around in a sulk for a week.

I'm worried though. It's the fact that he called out my name... I don't want him to be dreaming that I'm doing something to hurt him, or maybe he was calling for me to help him...

How can I help him? When have I, Howard Moon, been any help to anyone? Except for when they need to leave the room in a hurry of course.

XXX

Frowning with concern, Howard watched Vince toss and turn in his bed across the room. His best mate had managed to fling his duvet covers off almost completely, and now the moonlight filtered in and drifted across his thin, pale limbs. He whimpered something inaudible, and when his head thrashed to the side, Howard saw the deep frown disturbing his usual peaceful expression.

With a sigh, Howard climbed out of bed and crossed the small distance to Vince's bed, looking down at the younger man. Once again, he saw that there were tears running down his cheeks, and a film of sweat glistened over his body and plastered strands of his hair to his face.

How long had Vince been doing this for before he noticed that night? And what was wrong? And what were those bruises?