Author's Note: Guess who's back…back again…

So I'm going to try to update once every week-ish, but it might not always happen. Like, I might lose power for five days due to a tropical storm or something – just as a random, non-specific example. Also, I'm not sure if it's better to update with a shorter chapter more frequently, or with a longer chapter less often… but, I'm aiming for longer chapters in general.

Chapter Three: Tears

"Where the hell am I?!" Danny rasped again, when no one made a move to answer him. Instead, the dark-skinned man and the blond woman exchanged a loaded glance before turning back toward him.

"You're in our city," the woman, Dora, said simply.

"Okay. And what city is that?" Danny shot back, voice probing and hoarse, frustrated that even in his fantasy or delusion or whatever, he was still being treated like a naïve kid.

The more he considered everything, the more Danny wanted answers, NOW. If this was still his hallucination, it was really vivid, and way more imaginative than anything he had ever come up with previously. So it stood to reason that the creativity and weirdness would only continue in the responses from these "dream adults."

If this gets good, maybe I can make it into a future creative writing assignment, Danny considered momentarily before thinking, Nah, never mind. Too mainstream, he grinned as he thought about Sam, who tended to use that word often, and with absolute contempt.

"We're in Patala," the man finally responded after a drawn-out pause. Danny couldn't help it: he snorted at the solemn reverence in the man's tone before coughing, trying to save face.

"I'll pretend that means something," Danny finally replied with a croak, feeling a combination of exasperation and hopelessness. Suddenly, all of the pain that he'd been shoving to the back of his mind moved to the forefront – likely a side effect of, you know, talking when his throat was on fire.

Which, to be honest, was the other strange thing about this nightmare: not only was it super intense, but it was also incredibly realistic, especially in regards to pain.

"Actually, sorry, but can someone get me water, please?" Danny asked weakly. Normally, he'd be too embarrassed to flat-out request something from strangers – even imaginary strangers – but at this point he was too physically uncomfortable to care.

But again, no one made an effort to say anything. Danny felt an unrestrained flash of annoyance, especially since the awful thirst that existed in this reality was getting more unbearable by the second.

"Uh, sorry, but…um, seriously?" Danny was still self-aware enough to know that – at least by the rules of this illusion – he was at the mercy of this man and woman. So he figured that he should at least try to be respectful. He took a shaky breath. "I, uh, know you speak English?" Danny added dumbly. "So… can I please have some water? I'm really thirsty," Danny enunciated, trying to be as clear as possible, before looking up at Dora and the mysterious other adult.

The man was the one who hesitated before revealing, "We… we do not have water here." Danny thought that was one of the funniest jokes he'd ever heard in a dream.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Of course you have water. It's, like, a city, right? What else would you drink?" Danny chuckled quietly, until he picked up on the fact that no one else was laughing with him or acting even remotely entertained.

"Cal…" Dora's burgundy eyes darted around the subterranean square, and Danny finally had a name – or nickname, at least – to associate to the male with chestnut skin and wide maroon eyes. Danny might have imagined it, but Dora's own impossibly-colored eyes seemed to glisten.

"We do not have water in our city. We… we have no need for it." Cal confessed with utter sincerity, in a way which seemed both ridiculous and unreal. Danny was now convinced that this 'Cal' was certifiable.

"I asked you earlier, err, son… But, could you explain to me how you feel? When you can?" Cal appeared emotional, and the look on his face was heavy, as if trying to convey that these questions hurt him, too.

Maybe it was the serious expressions on both Dora and Cal's faces, or the fact that Danny knew that none of this was real, but he decided to react honestly.

"I uh…I feel really weird? I was cold before, but I'm not so much now… But, most of all, I'm thirsty. Really thirsty. I think if I drank something I'd feel better?" Danny bit his lip in what was typically a familiar, self-conscious gesture for him, only to register a sharp throbbing against his bottom lip as something pierced his skin. Okay, ow, he thought, shocked. That's new… and… strange. Worse than the foreign sting, though, was the pitiful look that Dora and Cal both wore at Danny's display.

Danny hardly felt like himself, and so, he reacted unexpectedly: with an unusual hint of attitude.

"Okay, why are you both acting like someone died?!" Danny forgot his current confusion as the sudden question burst from his newly-stabbed lips, his eyes almost wild.

"Because someone did!" Dora yelped, before her dainty hands immediately shot forward to cover her quivering mouth.

"Dora! You forget yourself!" Cal hissed, his mouth forming a thin, hard line – his eyes tortured.

"Okay, what are you even talking about? Who died?" The stress from whatever had happened – or whatever hadn't happened – had caught up to Danny, and his questions now had an edge of desperation.

"Son. I asked you how you felt earlier because I had hoped to guide you toward… well, to be frank, the truth of what has happened. You were cold, but you no longer are. You are… inhumanely thirsty. You must have an idea as to what's going on, especially with your, ah, lineage?" Danny was beginning to grasp that Cal spoke way too formally, like someone from a bygone era.

"Um, no, I don't know have a guess. Also, what does 'lineage' mean? I'm barely a B student, you know." Danny was getting fed up with everything, and his patience was waning in favor of (again) the severe pain localized in his throat.

Dora just gaped at him, apparently shocked enough by her own outburst to remain quiet.

"The word refers to your parentage," Cal divulged as his eyes bore into Danny's own with the strangest, guiltiest look.

"You mean my parents? Are they okay?" Danny was assaulted with the sense that he was missing something vital in this increasingly creepy conversation.

"They are… unharmed," Dora assured him as she regained her voice, also speaking in an oddly proper way, which was obvious the more Danny paid attention.

"So then, I don't get it. What's the problem?" Danny was puzzled, unsure why Cal and Dora were bringing up his parents at all if they were evidently fine and 'unharmed.'

"The problem is that Cal and I… we are concerned about you," Dora acknowledged, her statement thick with emotion, breaking on her final word. Dora's face was somewhat stony, but her voice betrayed her. Something was upsetting her.

"Why?" Danny's stomach flipped, and he felt like he was perched atop the apex of a rollercoaster, about to careen down toward either thrills or scares below.

As much as Danny knew that this whole experience wasn't real, and as much as he loved a good adventure, this one had worn out its welcome. Truthfully, Danny was sick of everything that was happening. It was one thing to want to have something exciting happen, and another entirely to be trapped in a strange, ongoing daydream with no escape.

"We are worried because we have all been in your position. And because of this, we want to make it as easy as possible… for you to accept what has happened." Dora's light eyebrows knit together, and she couldn't meet Danny's eyes. Instead, her own orbs closed, as if lost in a distressing memory. The look on Dora's face was indescribable. Danny understood with a pang that he'd never be able to forget it.

"Okay. Okay." Danny took a deep breath. "Uh, so, 'Dream People.' I actually have no idea what you're talking about." Danny confessed. His patience could accurately be summed up by a rapidly-burning rope about to turn into ash.

"Cal, he thinks that… he thinks that we are not real." Dora turned toward the brown-skinned man, amused but sad.

"This place may be unfamiliar, but I assure you that it, like us, is very real. I am sorry about what that means for you." Cal again looked pained, and he brought up a single shaking hand to his temple before facing Danny squarely.

Then unexpectedly, Cal's breath hitched in his throat, and Dora similarly inhaled sharply as an exceedingly memorable woman, auburn braid and all, strolled up purposefully to the stone slab that Danny was resting on.

"The hunters' son," she – Nat, Danny somehow understood – hummed, her hand resting against a conspicuous leather satchel before stopping in front of him.

"What? Me? Okay, sure, hi. But, uh, can you please tell me what's going on?" Danny figured that a direct question was his best bet, since he'd gotten far too many half-truths and unanswered questions lately.

Cal spoke next, though he looked even more uneasy than Danny had seen throughout his brief time knowing the man. "Natasia, here," Cal motioned in the direction of the new arrival. "Well, she saved you from certain death. Do… do you remember this at all?"

Somehow, those words rang true, but Danny could hardly hold onto them; they slipped through his fingers like droplets of water.

"What…?" Danny tried again, bewildered. He closed his eyes tightly before opening them again, and he stupidly felt a few tears threaten to fall. Am I crying? No way. Danny grasped for an explanation. It must be all this talk of death. Jeez, why on Earth do they keep talking about death?

"Son," Nat started kindly, and Danny flinched. Somehow, it was worse than when Cal called him that. This woman is not my mother, Danny reminded himself. And as soon as I wake up, I'm telling Mom how great she is.

"Please don't call me 'son,'" he whispered.

"Alright. But I don't actually know your name, you know," Nat disclosed with the barest hint of teasing, speaking less formally than Dora or Cal.

"Uh…Danny. It's Danny," he said, a bit taken aback.

"Danny," Nat smiled sadly as she said his name. "I'm going to get you something to help with that thirst. And once you feel a little better, we're going to finally give you some answers."

"Wow! Um, thank you! Uh, Nat, right?" Danny added softly, feeling like it was only fair to make sure that he had her name right, too. Plus, he was so unbelievably thankful for her honesty right in that moment; she was the only one willing to get him water, making her the sanest adult here by a long shot.

"Yes, Natasia. But I know Nat is easier, so just call me that." She quickly offered Danny a small grin before resuming a more serious expression. "Drink this," she finally instructed, voice wavering slightly, as she handed Danny an ornate metal flask from inside her leather bag.

"I'm more used to, like, a normal water bottle, but okay. This is water, though, right?" Nat looked down at the smooth, rock-hewn ground, and Cal looked upward toward a ceiling that didn't seem to exist.

"It will quench your thirst," Dora offered matter-of-factly. Danny wanted to question that more, but another craving ripped across his throat, and his suspicion was forgotten. He drank the entire contents of the flask within seconds.

-xxx-

Spoiler alert: it wasn't water. Danny wasn't exactly sure what he'd just guzzled, though. It was energizing and delicious; the liquid reminded Danny of his favorite flavor of melted ice cream (mint chocolate chip) on a scorching hot day.

Speaking of which, that was exactly what Danny had left behind: an absolutely sweltering mid-August day. Except…was he inside, or maybe underground? Wherever he was, he certainly wasn't sweating, or even hot. Right, answers. I still need answers... And Nat promised answers once I drank this!

Danny knew that deep within his bones, he felt better. It was almost instantaneous, the relief that was coursing through him. It was like he had been cursed with a furiously itchy mosquito bite – a constant source of irritation – that was suddenly soothed within minutes.

"Thanks so much, Nat. Really." Danny practically beamed with gratitude, looking up shyly. He felt like he could focus on everything else now that he wasn't so distracted by the rawness in his throat.

"Don't thank me yet, Danny," Nat expressed sincerely, with a twinge of sympathy.

Nat's reaction stumped him. It was obvious that she equated giving him that liquid – which, if it wasn't water, was something just as refreshing – with guilt. He didn't get why. It was just another oddity stacked atop an entire Jenga tower of strangeness.

"Okayy…" Danny drew out the word for a beat longer than usual. "But seriously… thanks. Um. For real. I don't know what that was, but it helped a lot," Danny admitted as he sighed contentedly.

"I apologize for asking, but what did that taste like to you?" Cal gazed at him curiously. Dora had her hands clasped together, starting murderously at a single spot of dirt on the stone beneath her feet. Danny thought that Cal had phrased the question in an incredibly strange way, but ignored it for now.

"Kind of like ice cream. Why? Was it? Wow, if it was, then how'd you get it melted so perfectly?" Danny kept thinking back to how the drink was the absolute ideal temperature – not freezing, but not a soup-like consistency either.

"Fascinating. I've truly never heard that one before. Ah, no… Danny. It... it is not ice cream." Cal gazed over at Nat, as if hoping for guidance.

"You're very vague, you know that, Cal? What is it, then? Just curious." Danny didn't think it was an outrageous question, but not a single adult uttered a word. They were really, annoyingly skilled at the whole 'not-answering' thing.

"Okay, sure, fine. A flask full of melted ice cream would have been nuts anyway. So… what then? Some drink you guys make down here? I won't spill the secret recipe or anything, I promise. I just sort of wanted to know and–-" Danny continued rambling until he was forcefully interrupted.

"Blood. It was blood," Dora spat darkly.

Danny was beginning to think that Dora had a bit of a temper. And that she was insane. Honestly, both were valid.

-xxx-

Danny was way past ready to wake up now. Or to have some Ashton Kutcher lookalike pop up from behind a rock-hewn spire and yell the underground equivalent of "Punk'd." ("Warp'd"? "Scare'd"? He'd workshop it.)

"Honestly, Dora… that's, ah, a messed up joke?" Danny felt uncomfortable saying that – so much so that it presented itself as an uncertain question – but really, 'blood'?! That was too far. It was disturbing.

"Callahan and Natasia might be dancing around telling you about your new reality, but I can no longer do so," Dora stated with a sharp intake of breath and a determined expression. "Natasia gave you blood. That is what you drank. Not this 'icy cream' that you inquired about. Blood. Animal blood."

Danny's chest seized up, because even jokingly, the thought of drinking blood chilled him to his very core. Moisture prickled at the corner of his eyes (again), which he didn't understand.

"Um, really. That's… it's not funny, you know?" Danny couldn't help it; another hesitant-sounding question escaped his lips. It was like Danny could no longer form a definitive statement.

"Young Danny. Dora is being truthful. Natasia did, in fact, give you blood… but only because she wanted to help quench your thirst." Cal – or, Callahan – confessed.

"Even if I bought that, which I don't, why would you guys drink blood?" Danny was still trying to reason with these adult hallucinations, but it was getting really freaking cumbersome.

"Danny. It's because… well, it's because we are… vampires." Nat was the one to answer him, almost as if she knew that Danny trusted her the most. But this was one prank that Danny couldn't just stomach.

"Uh, no. Not buying it." Danny laughed and snorted incredulously; he couldn't stop chuckling. But not for the first time, he was alone in doing so. And as Danny again regarded his surroundings – the stone city, the adults with maroon eyes, the eerie pewter flask – he was paralyzed.

What if… what if this wasn't a dream?