The throne room of the Dream King was titanic and white. Stained
glass windows reflected the missing color into shards on the floor. The
ceiling went up at least five stories and at the end of the room and up a
magnificent staircase was the throne. Upon it sat a man who was as pale as
the walls around him. His hair was black and messy, sticking out at all
angles. The Dream King's eyes reminded the cowboy of space, void of
everything, save two cold stars. He was too thin and seemed to young, but
there was a wise air to him. "Greetings Spike Spiegel." The Dream King's
voice wasn't a voice, and yet Spike could hear it. He bowed somewhat
awkwardly, not used to the motion. "What is it that you seek from me?"
"My friend, she won't wake up. Old Man Bull sent me here to see you
about her."
"Ah, the green-eyed woman who dreams of times long since passed."
"Yeah, that's her. What's wrong with her?"
"It seems that the thread that should have led her mind to her body
has snagged." Explained the Dream King. "That is what is keeping her from
awakening."
"What exactly does that mean?"
"She has become lost in dreams."
"Where is she?"
"She is on a skerry in the bay of Nightmare."
"How do I get there?"
"Because you have helped Fiddler's Green, I am grateful. I shall
lend you a guide, the Raven Matthew." Suddenly, a large, black bird sat
upon the King's shoulder.
"Hia Boss." It said.
Spike jumped, "It talked!"
"Yeah, I do that," ruffled Matthew, "got a problem?"
"Matthew will lead you to where you need to go."
The raven seemed to flinch. "Boss, I don't know, you sure you can't
just tell him where to go? Eve's been wanting to talk, and you know how
she gets about that sorta stuff, and I don't want to keep her waiting."
"The Lady Eve will understand Matthew, your talk will have to wait."
Said the Dream King sternly, "I bid you a safe journey."
Having been dismissed, the two left the throne room and the castle.
He wanted to go home. "So," said the raven, trying to make conversation,
"what are you here for?"
"Helping a friend." Came the short reply.
"Yeah? I used to have friends, back when I was alive anyway. Guess
they were more like drinking buddies though." Matthew confessed, "What
sort of a friend is it?"
"I don't know." Admitted the cowboy, "She dives me nuts most of the
time and she just causes me trouble."
"Is she hot?"
"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know!" exclaimed Spike, somewhat
disgusted, "Don't ask me that!"
"Oh, one of those. I've had a few of those."
"She is not one of those, makes me sick even thinking about her that
way."
"Yeah, sure, just keep telling yourself that, maybe, some day, it'll
come true."
The cowboy fell silent. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was why he'd
come to get her. He could have let her sleep and let Jet dump her off into
space, but instead he was on an adventure to rescue her from her worst
nightmares. She wasn't really that bad, when she was in a good mood
anyway, and she could be somewhat charming when she wanted to be. No. No,
this was Faye! He couldn't like Faye; she was Faye! "Ah, what do you
know, bird?"
"I know a lot actually."
"Obviously nothing about me though."
"Well, maybe not, but you have to admit, I sounded good for a while."
Spike rolled his eyes and kept walking. Stupid bird. What did he
know, he ate road kill and shat on cars. Stupid bird.
They traveled in silence, all the way to the graveyard. "A skerry's
an island." Commented Spike.
"Yes, you're a quick one, aren't you?"
"How are we going to get there?"
"I'll fly and you'll. you'll, um, uh."
"Now who's the quick one?" Smirked Spike.
"Maybe you could swim." Offered Matthew.
"I'm not swimming."
"So how are you going to get there?"
"I don't know, but I'm not swimming." Spike glanced around.
"Nothing here really floats, except." he saw the mansions, looming over the
cemetery, "wood. Wood floats."
