Ruby approached the warehouse, cautious.
The night was dim, with a thin layer of smog obscuring the moon and stars. There was little vegetation in this area, but crickets abounded, screeching in the darkness. The constant rumble of trucks passing on the freeway to her right masked the sound of her footsteps on the cracked pavement as she made her way through the maze of shipping containers and chain-link fences to the steel doors of the building.
They slid open a crack and she held a hand up to her face as a blinding light erupted through the small opening.
"Get in here," a voice said.
Her hand fell to her side as her eyes adjusted to the light. She stepped through the opening and into the lobby of a five star hotel. There were paintings of angels on the walls, and the room was lined with golden crown molding. She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, grinning at the tall, balding man who stood before her.
"Nice place," she said. "Especially for Van Nuys."
"We're a well-kept secret," he said. His smile was oily, his movements graceful and yet sinister; he reminded her of Alistair in more ways than one.
"Lilith says you have something to tell me. What is it?"
He gave her a long look, and she couldn't help but back away slightly under his gaze. She hated herself for her fear, but he was powerful, and she sensed he might be as ruthless as any of the heavy hitters in the pit.
He sighed and some of the heat left his stare. "Just some news your…associates down below might find useful."
She snorted. "You want to help us?"
"That's complicated. This? Is simple. Dean Winchester needs to go to hell."
"Preaching to the choir."
"Am I?"
She looked askance at him. "He's locked in. No way out of that deal."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
He waved his hand and a manila folder appeared. He handed it to her expectantly, and she took it.
"What, did you run out of papyrus scrolls?"
"Times change. Read it."
She looked over the information inside.
Her stomach dropped like a stone.
"An offer's been made…is...is this true?"
"Every word."
She scanned the papers again, leafing through them.
"They're ancients, and they're not even really on Earth. Demons…we can't reach them."
"Clever little bastards, aren't they?"
"How do we stop this?"
"You can't."
"Why don't you guys do some of the heavy lifting for a change? You want him downstairs as bad as we do."
"Our approach needs to be more…hands off, at the moment."
"So you need us to do the dirty work?"
"It is your specialty."
"How? You know we can't, not with these gods."
"The Winchesters can."
"Why would they? This sleep god can keep Dean out of the – "
"Make it happen."
"We-"
But the hotel suite was gone, and she was standing in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, complete with rats and crates marked "U.S.A."
The folder was still in her hand.
"So long, and thanks for all the fish," she muttered, opening it again.
Bela Talbot leaned against the motel room door, the jar of African Dream Root clutched tightly to her chest. Her hair was tied in an elegant knot behind her head and there were diamond earrings in her ears; Dean didn't know the brand of the coat she was wearing, but it fit like a glove. She'd arrived just a few minutes before in a large, dark sedan and had practically skulked into their room like a villain in an ADT commercial.
"What's with the cloak and dagger?" He grabbed a beer from the fridge and twisted off the cap. Sam was out at the car, gathering the rest of the ingredients from the trunk.
"A bit of caution never hurt," she said. She held up the jar. "Dangerous, this. Hope it's worth it."
"It is," Dean said, taking it from her. He shook it back and forth, weighing the contents. At least she'd brought a whole jar; he'd been prepared for her to try and screw them out of what they'd agreed on.
She lifted a perfectly waxed eyebrow at him. "It's all there, Dean. Would you like to count the grains?"
"Would if I had the time."
"There go your trust issues, again."
He snorted. "You're one to talk."
"Fair enough." She walked past him and dropped into one of the kitchenette chairs, looking down her nose at the empty beer bottles on the table.
He smirked, gesturing toward the beds. "Money's on the nightstand, sweetheart. Thanks for the room service."
"Ever the gentleman," she said, tossing her bag into the table. "But I'm not going anywhere."
"Excuse me?"
"Sam has asked me to stay while you visit with the naked men in your dreams."
Dean spluttered.
A small and haughty smile graced half of her mouth.
"I think we can handle it from here, Carmen Sandiego."
"Doubt it."
He looked her up and down. "You look like you got somewhere to be."
"I rescheduled," she said. "Besides, you brother doesn't want to leave your bodies unattended while you're away. Clearly the brains of the operation."
"We can call someone else."
"Can you, now? Who?"
Dean started to reply, then realized that Ruby was the only one who could fill in on such short notice.
"People," he muttered.
"What's the matter? Afraid I'll take advantage of you?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm here to do a job, nothing more."
"Right." He sat down beside her, moving the bottles to the other side of the table. "What the hell is Sam doing out there?"
"Dunno," she replied. "So what's new in your world, Dean?"
"Not much." He finished off the beer he was drinking and set the bottle to the side with the others. "Gods, ghosts, and now more gods…"
"More gods? Is that what all this" – she gestured at the jar – "is for?"
If she had dog ears, they'd be wide open, he thought, rolling his eyes. "Mind your business."
"Related to all the dead children around here?"
He chuckled. So much for keeping it in the family.
"What? Girl like me's got to keep her wits about her."
"Yeah, we're on a case. You happy, you bloodhound?"
"You know," she said quietly, turning unexpectedly serious, "it's risky, talking to gods, even in your dreams. Sure you know what you're doing?"
"Been there, done that," he said.
She smiled gently. "A bit of advice," she said, a distant look on her face, "don't make a wager. Not for anything."
She held his eyes for a long moment, and he was about to ask more questions when Sam came in, slamming the door behind him and heading their way.
"Couldn't find the distilled water in the trunk."
"Back seat," Dean said.
"Yeah, I figured it out. Got everything else, though." He sighed, leaning against the fridge. "We ready?"
"No use dragging ass."
They crushed the dream root and the other ingredients and poured the tea into Styrofoam cups before making their way back over to the beds. Bela didn't move, watching them from where she was.
"Wallet better be here when I wake up," Dean muttered.
"Sleep tight," she said.
They downed the tea and collapsed backward onto the bed.
It was nighttime.
The moon was high in the sky and huge – certainly bigger than he'd ever seen the real moon get. It was mercifully white, a fact for which Dean was grateful; the MS Paint sky had been beautiful in its own way, but it was mostly creepy as hell. Now, the landscape was at least moderately normal.
"Sam?"
No answer.
He was standing in grass damn near as tall as he was, and the landscape was dotted with the flowers Sam had showed him. They rustled in the light, cool wind that blew every few seconds, but made no sounds. A river rushed somewhere nearby. Where there had been trees to the west the last time he was here, there was a mid-sized mountain about a fifteen minute walk from where he stood.
"Sam!"
He spun in a circle, looking for his brother, and spotted him near the mountain. Dean hesitated before moving in that direction; he could have sworn Sam wasn't over there a moment ago.
"Dean?"
Sam waved his hands back and forth like a crossing guard, and Dean jogged toward him, suddenly much less sure of their plan than he had been only hours before. Even if it was true that these ancient Greeks could keep him out of the hot box, which was a big if, when did things ever turn out well with the pagans?
Surprisingly, Sam didn't vanish like a mirage when Dean reached him, and the two of them surveyed the landscape. Sam pointed upward at the mountain, gesturing at a small cave. A dim light emanated from the gap in the rock.
"Think that's it?"
Sam nodded. "Hypnos lives in a cave, it says. Doesn't like to be woken up. Morpheus guards the place so nobody gets in."
"And Dr. Death?"
"Didn't say."
"Fantastic."
Sam looked around them, frowning.
"What?"
"Nothing, it's just…are you really dreaming all this?"
"Must be. We're here, aren't we?"
"I guess…"
"Why, what are you thinking?"
"We've never been to a place like this. Hell, I've never even heard of a place like this – we got one of the Rocky Mountains here, a random cave, savannah grass, a deciduous forest, and…what sounds like the Mississippi running through here."
"Yeah, so?"
"So I don't think we're in your head, Dean. I think we're somewhere else. Some kind of dream world."
"Don't you think that's pushing it, even for us?"
"I – "
"We've been waiting for you."
Sam and Dean both whipped around to see who was behind them. The man they saw was younger than Hypnos, and to Dean's relief, was wearing canvas pants. His voice was melodic and soft, though they had no trouble hearing him. He was bald and wore a rope necklace with some kind of stone hanging from it, and smiled halfheartedly at them.
"Sorry for the delay," Sam said awkwardly.
Morpheus focused his attention on Sam, narrowing his eyes. "You've brought a brother," he said. "Tell me, do you wish to serve us, as well?"
"Me? No, no, I – " Sam said quickly.
"We're just here to get the rundown on the deal," Dean finished for him. "We're still not sure we buy what you're selling."
"Ah," he said. "Well, let us go, then. My father doesn't often break his rest for guests. Best not test his patience."
They followed him up a narrow path that started at the base of the mountain and led straight to the cave. It was odd; the path was wide and quite obvious once they were on it, but before Morpheus had led them forward, Dean hadn't noticed it at all. Sam noticed its sudden appearance as well, and they traded suspicious looks as they trailed behind Morpheus in silence.
He came to a sudden halt at the cave mouth, and Sam and Dean nearly walked into his back. The entrance was also much larger than it had appeared from the clearing – it was easily fifteen feet high and twenty wide. The sound of rushing water was practically deafening, now, too, though the river should have been a great distance from the cave…
Morpheus started forward and Dean glanced at Sam, who shrugged and started walking again, too.
Though the cave was tall and wide, it was fairly shallow – it extended about thirty feet into the face of the mountain. There was nothing of note inside, with only a pile of rags on the floor. In the middle of these rags sat Hypnos, Indian style.
Least his crotch is covered.
"Dean," his booming voice said. "It's good to see you again."
"Yeah," he replied, unsure of how to respond.
"Please, sit."
They didn't see any chairs, so they sat on the ground across from him.
"I have heard much about you, Dean Winchester," Hypnos said with a yawn.
"All good, I hope."
"Very little, I'm afraid," he said. "Especially for creatures like me. But I can help you."
"So you told me. I'm just not sure I believe you."
Hypnos looked confused.
"We've been screwed before," Sam explained. "A lot. We're just trying to cover our bases."
"Gods have lied to you?"
Dean chuckled. "Oh, yeah. But let's get down to brass tacks. You've been killing kids. That's not okay with us. If we're not gonna gank you, you gotta give us a reason."
"But I have," he said. "You've made a bargain with one of the western underworld creatures, and you wish to break it. I can do this deed, if you will give me your spirit and hide me from those who would do me harm."
"And who is that, exactly?" Sam asked. "Who's after you?"
"I do not know," Hypnos said sadly. "I only know that they are powerful. They have killed off most of my siblings. My brother and my son are all that's left of my family. My son has hidden us in the land of dreams, but I fear they will soon find us here, as well."
Sam and Dean glanced at each other, unsure. Dean wanted to believe this thing, but something about his they-killed-my-poor-family story just wasn't sitting right.
"So, if I agree to this," Dean said, "you'll just quit grabbing your own tribute, huh? You'll just take what we give you? No bullshit?"
Hypnos' earnest expression faltered. "Well," he said, "we must have tribute in order to survive. It's what we are. And it takes much power to hold off our unseen foes…" He shrugged. "The details are unimportant. What matters is keeping you away from that place they'll send you if they capture your spirit. It's a very bad place."
"Unlike the place you stashed the kids' souls, huh?"
"What place is that, by the way?" Sam piped up. "You guys got some basement somewhere where you lock away your tributes' souls for safe keeping?"
"They've floated down the river, of course," Hypnos said matter-of-factly.
"The river?"
"Yes," he gestured at the walls of the cave. "The Lethe runs from here to the underworld, and cleans men's spirits of heavy memories."
"So you float them in a basket to hell? Nice."
"Not Hell. The underworld."
Dean chuckled. "Potato, po-tah-to."
Hypnos' patient expression turned suddenly dark. The wind picked up outside, and the sound of the river grew even louder around them; it sounded as though it might crash through the walls of the cave. "There are more things in heaven and earth than you've dreamt of in your philosophy," he said.
He relaxed.
Sam raised a curious eyebrow. "Shakespeare? Really?"
Hypnos smiled. "I am tired," he said. "Weak. And I must sleep. You do not have long, Dean, nor do we. Make your decision, and come with an answer in two days' time. If you do not, I fear we will have to move on, and fates will be sealed, both yours and mine."
Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Sure thing, doc. Just make sure no toddlers go missing between now and then."
Hypnos frowned, clearly not a fan of being bossed by humans. "Very well."
