When Dream first saw him, he was just a little boy.
A little boy who had somehow stumbled upon Dream's domain. The boy's back was turned as he bent down to pick up a lone flower growing in the dirt. Dream watched silently from afar. The boy had sandy blond hair. He wore long sleeved pajamas that had mini cartoon pictures all over. The boy eventually stood up, bored now, and turned around to inspect some other curiosity. He half turned before he caught the silhouette of the god and stopped, frozen in his tracks.
Dream could see a smattering of freckles on a pale complexion. The boy fully turned to look at Dream. His eyes were large and green.
Dream waited for the boy's reaction.
Humans were fragile creatures and it was not Dream's intention to scare this one.
"H-Hello," the boy whispered.
"Hello," Dream said.
The boy didn't move. Neither did Dream.
"My name's Dean. What's y-yours?" The boy asked finally.
Dream didn't answer immediately. Dean's eyes were still wide, scared. He could see the small tremors in Dean's arms. "Dream," he said.
Dean blinked, then frowned. "Dream?"
The god nodded. "That is my name."
"Dream's kind of a weird name," the boy told him.
Dream cocked his head to the side. "Is it? I've had that name for eons now." He paused for a moment, watched as the boy's trembling stopped, his eyes growing even wider as he listened. "I've had many names."
"What else do people call you?" Dean asked.
"Morpheus was one. Oneiros was another," Dream said.
The little boy squinted up at Dream, brows furrowed. "Those are also pretty weird names."
Dream blinked. "You think so?" Dean nodded. Dream frowned. He never thought of the names given as odd. "Well I think your name is weird. Dean."
Dean blinked back at him. Dream stared into those large green eyes. They were strangely mesmerizing. "You think my name is weird?" the boy asked.
The god of dreams shrugged. He still wasn't sure why he was having this ridiculous conversation with such a strange, young boy. "Yes." The boy frowned. "What? You may think my name is strange but I cannot of yours? That does not sound fair."
The boy's frown deepened. Dream could practically see Dean's thoughts. "You're right. It isn't fair of me. I'm sorry," the boy apologized. It was strangely endearing to see how serious this human child took the conversation, as if he was actually concerned over Dream's feelings over something as silly and trivial as names.
"There's no need for an apology. You have not hurt my feelings," Dream told the boy.
Dean tilted his head slightly. "You know, you have a funny way of talking."
"What do you mean?"
The boy just stared at him for a moment. Then, Dean shrugged and said, "I dunno. You just talk different I guess." Dream was about to question the boy further but Dean was quick to continue, "Like you don't talk like me or my dad or anybody I know. It's not a bad thing though. Just like I said, it's different."
Dream didn't really understand. He talked like he normally talked. Humans were perplexing creatures. "Anyways," the boy said when Dream said nothing, "do you live here or something?" He broke his gaze from Dream to the vast world around them. Dream's kingdom lay just beyond the god.
"Yes, I do," Dream said honestly. He stretched his arms out to gesture to everything around them. "All of this belongs to me. This is my kingdom."
Dean's eyes were wide as saucers as he looked at the kingdom before him. The gates were stretched so high that the boy probably couldn't see the end of it even as he craned his neck. "Wow," he murmured. He took an involuntary step forward as he looked around. "This is amazing."
"Thank you," Dream said quietly.
"It's like a dream," Dean said.
Dream inclined his head and took a little bow. "I am the god of dreams. Morpheus, or as I said before, Dream, at your service."
xxxx
The human's full name turned out to be Dean Winchester.
The first time Dream saw the boy crash into his kingdom was certainly not the last time.
The next time they see each other would be a year later. The boy just turned eight.
Bright green eyes looked back at Dream.
"Dean," the god said in greeting.
The boy turned and smiled wide and bright. "Dream!" He raced down the hill and tackled the god with a hug. "I can't believe I found you!"
Dream blinked, a little dazed. I can't believe you found me as well, he thought. It was usually he who found others but with Dean, it was almost like the boy had the innate ability to sense Dream. No human has been to Dream's kingdom other than Dean.
xxxx
By the third time they met in Dream's kingdom, Dream knew more about his little human.
Dean was eight and a half. He was the son of one Mary Campbell and John Winchester. Mary, Dean's mother, was killed by a demon. John stumbled into the supernatural and became a hunter obsessed over finding his wife's killer. He also had a younger brother by the name of Samuel Winchester, who he lovingly referred to as Sammy.
Dream watched from afar as John Winchester hunted down a Wendigo. The man didn't seem to care to understand the supernatural thing he hunted. He lived in a black and white world where everything that was not human was a threat and needed to be put down. A monster was a monster to the man.
How can such a violent and obsessed man raise such a caring and loving child like Dean Winchester?
The boy's eyes lit up when he saw Dream. His smile brightened when he talked about his family, how his father was a hero and it was his job to protect his precious, baby brother.
Dream gave the boy a sad, little smile. He could tell where Dean's future path lay.
Dean wanted nothing more than to please his family but the boy didn't know of all the heartaches that lay in path. Dream has lived for eons. He has bore witness to the many horrors and bloodshed and selfishness of humanity.
He was not sure when he became so invested in Dean Winchester, that a small curiosity could spiral into something bigger, but he knew he could not just leave the human.
No. If he could just put to rest any and all thoughts of Dean, this story would have ended with the first meeting.
Instead…Dream was sure their story was just unraveling.
He could feel it.