All right so I know I haven't updated in ages, but that was because I didn't really have any ideas. But I do now, so it's all good! :D

Anyway, I was watching Sleeping Beauty the other day (don't even ask why) and when I saw the romantic forest scene, I thought two things. 1) If a stranger grabbed me by the wrists and started serenading me, I would get the heck out of there. 2) Hey, this might make a good songfic! But for what couple?

I originally thought of Caine and Diana, but then realized that it wouldn't really work. So then I thought: hmm…once upon a dream…ORSAY! Paired with…hmmm…and then I fell back on one of my favorite characters, DRAKE!

And I know the song is seven lines long, so it's mostly fic and less song. But I tried to make it relevant. Don't be afraid to tell me I must be insane for daring to mix Drake and Sleeping Beauty music. And feel free to tell me if you thought it was a creative stroke of genius, either. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own GONE, the wonderful characters of Drake or Orsay, which is really too bad because I love Drake and Orsay is pretty cool. Nor do I own Disney and its animation studios, which is good and bad. If I owned Disney channel, the shows would be better, but I can't draw at ALL, so I'll leave the animated movies to someone else.

I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream

Drake glared down at the girl lying on the ground in front of him. She had been inside his head. She had watched his dreams. He knew that going into his mind must have probably been like going to hell and back, but still. That girl was IN HIS HEAD. He brought down the whip, striking her as hard as he could, letting her screams pierce the cool night air.

Drake wanted the girl to stop feeling, to stop thinking, to stop staring at him as she watched the horrors of his nightmares, her eyes not filled with fear or disgust or hate, which would be easy for Drake to cope with. But when he watched her watch him, all he saw was pity. Drake didn't need her pity. He needed fear. He needed control. But this dreaming girl took all of that away and replaced it with compassion, something Drake didn't want or understand.

I know you; that gleam in your eyes is so familiar, a gleam

I know it's true; that visions are seldom what they seem

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

Orsay stared up at the horribly disturbed boy in front of her. He wasn't all hatred, she could tell that. There was a lot of fear there, too. But hatred was just fear turned outwards, so she supposed the boy was all fear, in a way. Or you could say he was all hatred. But Orsay tried not to think about it like that.

Maybe he was just a normal boy put into horrible circumstances and expected to live with it. But the look in his eyes—and the tentacle he used to rip apart her skin—suggested that he was deranged. A lunatic. His stormy gray eyes looked at her with such hatred, she was terrified. He had a gun in his human hand, too. And by looking at his hollow cheeks and ribs poking through his skin, he was hungry.

But still, the way he was looking at her was frightening, but oddly attractive. Orsay's stomach fluttered. Her heart sped up. She was paralyzed with a mix of urges to run, to beg for mercy, and to close the distance between the two of them. Orsay realized with a start that in a way a twisted as Drake's mind, she had fallen in love at first sight with him. He was in desperate need of help, and she understood, because she had already been in his mind, though the thought of returning made her want to wet her pants.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once,

Drake looked at the girl, and saw the mix of emotions he had seen when she was in his dream. There was fear, and pity, and something that looked like care. She loved him, he realized, she had fallen in love with the chaos of torture and pain that existed inside his brain. Drake didn't want anyone to understand, but he desperately wanted her to understand.

He dropped the gun and wrapped the whip around her neck, yanking her forward. She squeaked, and Drake loosened his hold, but just by a little bit. He yanked her even closer and pressed his lips to hers, rough and wild, insane, psychopathic. She didn't kiss him back, and he didn't force it. It had been enough. But Drake was still starving, still uncaring, and still obeying Caine. He was still Drake. So that's why he pressed the gun to her head and snarled "Let's walk."

Upon a dream.