A/N: Sorry it's been a bit since I updated. I've been working on a really long chapter for my other story. But that's done now. I think (therefore I am).

Disclaimer: I cannot claim anything that belongs to Annie Dalton or L.J Smith, not even one of their lunchboxes.

Dreamer

Because I couldn't sleep didn't mean I couldn't dream. 'Dream' had many meanings. It still does: To hallucinate in your sleep. To think of goals you wish to carry out in your life. To have your mind open, working in mysterious ways, trying to tell you something you are too blind to see. Something the will clear as fresh snow afterwards.

I was trying to access the third state of dreaming.

My body was sitting on the bed in a guest room at the Daybreak safe house. My mind was traveling through ever-changing worlds. Pictures flashed beneath me.

Where are the others? I directed to the ground beneath me. It answered by flashing pictures at me so fast I couldn't make them make sense.

Where is Mel? And slower this time! I thought back. Pictures of a large town or a small city flashed by. Images of detached houses. A bookstore and a cathedral. An old castle-like building. As quickly as they began, they stopped.

Where is Brice? Without hesitation, I was shown dark corridors, a volcano and a hallway full of children, in some form of uniform.

Where is Lola? The pictures showed a city that was clearly New York. A run down church, then an old cathedral. Dark runic marks. Monsters crawling in shadows.

I paused before asking the next question. Where am I? A single image flashed back: Four people surrounded, no, engulfed, in a mass of blue.

Defiantly the third type of dreaming, I thought. So cryptic. Why couldn't the universe work in simple ways? But then I knew that. It was a whisper that had run through my veins since I was created: it has to be; otherwise existence would be no fun.

Drowsily, I pulled my mind back into my head. I blinked bleary eyes, trying to make sense of the room in front of me. There were candles everywhere and bedside lamps clustered on every surface, their heads bent to the ground, as if they were worshipping some kind of lamp-ish deity. Perfectly normal, for me at least, apart from the door that was vibrating rhythmically. The candle flames flickered; sending eerie shadows skitting across the walls. Then I heard the banging. The vibrations it caused were moving my hair.

I moved quickly and silently to the door, hoping I hadn't kept the person outside waiting for very long. There were some people in the safe house that would contribute better to my health if I did not piss them off. People like, for instance, Keller, whose fist stopped in mid bang as I whipped open the door.

She did, in fact, look pissed off. I hoped it had something to do with the last person she spoke to, not me. Her eyes were too precise to be called daggers. They were the sharpest, thin bladed knives, ones that made daggers look crude, heavy and clumsy. Her face was smooth and unreadable, but the vibes I could feel radiating off her told me all I needed to know. She wasn't just angry. There was more to it than that. Hatred, anguish and irritation.

As an empath, I'd advise to stay away from Keller for a few days. Let her cool off. Particularly if you're one of the people who angered her in the first place.

"I've been told to tell you that 'dinner is served' or about to be." She said, barely muting the anger in her voice. Her manner acted a little haughtier as she ticked off the clichéd words in a fake posh accent. ^A/N a British accent is NOT a posh one. I am British, and have a posh accent, but cannot understand most off the land, as their voices are so different to mine, it all becomes a garbled mess to me.^ Keller turned on her heels and walked away, muttering under her breath, without looking back at me.

I sighed. It might as well be impossible to find my way back to the numerous dining rooms that I knew the safe house contained. And those were only the ones I'd seen in my sorts stay, it was highly probable that there were more I hadn't seen. I could wander the hallways, asking around to see if anyone knew where I had to go. But that would take so long the food would be cold, if not gone off, by the time I got there. I simply cannot handle hot food gone cold. Eugh. That's come from someone who has spent over three months living off trail mix, the main ingredient of which being brick dust.

There was, however, a far quicker way I could find them. I gathered as many of my many senses as I could hold at one time, then sent them to explore. I was looking for the vibes of Lady Hannah and Lord Thierry, and whoever else was eating with them. As the signals bounced back to me, the echoes revertabrating around my head, I followed them to their source.

Before I came to the wall, I changed the way my molecules were held together. I was now invisible to the eyes of mortals and … other creatures alike, as well as able to slip through solid surfaces. Ghost-like, I glided silently through the mansion.

I melted back into the human world in the corner of a red painted dining room. The corner I was in held no doors or windows. There wasn't even a secret passage behind the portrait of a stern looking Lord that hung on the wall behind me. Candlelight and the roaring fire lit the faces of the Lord and Lady of the house, the Wildpowers and their soulmates and the maiden of all the witches, Aradia.

Their faces turned to me as I slid into the one spare seat at the table. Eight pairs of eyes looked on curiously at me. It was clear I had been the topic of the preceding conversation.

That was when I realized the whole 'dinner' set up might have been a test.

Aradia's P.O.V

I had heard of the new arrival in the safe house, and decided to pay a visit. The words of our newly made prophecy rang around my head, their echoes carving trails of wonder and mystery inside my mind. Who and what was Rueben?

Aside from my internal ponderings, I could hear Lord Thierry talking to Keller. He was explaining tonight's plan to her: Thierry, the Wildpowers and their soulmates, Rueben and I were to have a formal meal this evening. At least, we hoped Rueben would be there. The idea was to invite Rueben at the last minute, but not tell him which room we would be in and see if he turned up. We planned on using a dining room he had not seen yet.

I was interested to see if his presence at the dinner would spark any visions, about him or otherwise. From what I'd heard, he often gave information away freely, but most of it was of little use or not fully explained. Very few had any idea who this boy really was.

***====That evening, at a certain dinner party====***

It was Bob's fifty third birthday, and he, his friends, wife and children had gone out to celebrate. They were eating enchiladas in a Mexican diner on a busy street in Cardiff, Wales. Outside, rain poured from the sky, to drip down walls and run into gutters. It was a miserable day.

Inside the Mexican diner, dull lights barley penetrated the haze that seemed to be half water and half smoke. The muted murmur of voices was so low that the fly that was crawling down the wall could be heard above them. The food that had been produced by a heavily tattooed chef may not have reached health and safety standards.

The meat was gritty and couldn't be identified as one particular animal. The sauces seemed to be mixtures of tomato ketchup, chili powder, coke and an unknown brown substance. The things that most closely resembled bread were too floury and incredibly dry. It bared no resemblance to the high-class meal that was taking place thousands of miles away.

***====That evening, at Lord Thierry's dinner party, or just before it. ====***

Hannah's P.O.V

Eight of us were seated in the red painted dining room. A fire crackled invitingly in the corner of the room, casting orange light over our faces. The eight of us were trying to engage in small talk to pass the time before the ninth guest arrived, but the conversation kept drifting to one subject; whether he would turn up or not.

After an eternity of icy silence, Morgead spoke up on the subject we were all interested in, but were too polite to approach.

"Do you think he'll get here?" He asked, casting a glance around the table.

"Keller is normally a reliable person, so the message must have got to him." Iliana was ever protective of her bonded sister.

"This test we've set him may have been too difficult for him to tackle." Aradia added.

"…Or he may not have been bothered to turn up." Jez put in with an evil smile at the end.

"You do realize he's not technically late yet." I halted the conversation after looking at my watch.

That was three seconds before Rueben slid into the free seat at the table, having come from the side of the room with no doors or windows. There wasn't even a secret passage behind one of the paintings of the Redfern and Harman ancestors. Either he'd been standing there since before he came in, or some seriously freaky crap was going on.

"Sorry, I got held up." His eyes scanned our faces, as if daring us to object.

"You're not late, we just came early." I told him, then dropped my voice to add the last bit. "Though you're only just on time."

"Well, I was as near to sleep as I can get before Keller… distracted me." His eyes gleamed with inner amusement, laughing at an untold joke.

The talk was cut off by a group of waiters, specially employed for serving any fancy meals Thierry chose to throw, glided into the room carrying an array of plates, trays, jugs, jars and various other items. In minutes the table was almost groaning from the weight of food. Mentally, I winced, if this was the first course, what was yet to come? Though I loved much of the fancy food being served, I knew better than to gorge myself. It was well within the laws of the universe there were many more dishes still to be served. We could be here for some time.

***==== 8 courses later ====***

Rueben's P.O.V

Chatter had died down after most of us had stuck down to devour the vast amounts of food that had been placed before us. As the evening dragged on, we found there was little more room in us to be stuffed with food, and no one seemed to want to try the Roman style of banqueting. Having taken a small jaunt to Nero's Rome, I hoped never to see anything like that sort of behavior again. I had seen that over half of Nero's supporters weren't human, and they were the one who had started the tradition. I also recalled that very few Night Worlders had anything to do with Nero. Though he was powerful, he was only human, and that made it business that involved far too much of vermin than was acceptable for one to be seen around. The level of noise gradually rose as one by one we reached our stomachs' capacity.

"Do you get good food back home?" Iliana gave what I thought was a somewhat weak start to a conversation.

"The food business is very competitive back home. There's no room for people who don't serve decent stuff." …And we also hate food poisoning there. I added on in silence. "My friends and I have a personal favorite; a little student café that serves everything from homemade oat cookies to Aztec hot chocolate. Or they do when the new waitress gets the order right."

"What's school like there anyway? If you're favorite café is a student hangout, surely you're a student there?" Galen spoke almost too soon; it was clear that he didn't want the conversation to dwindle into awkward silence, like I knew it soon would.

"I'm not a student, I'm a 'trainee'. Almost all the schools are run by the agency, and most people end up working for them. Everyone has to board, and there's a lot of competition between schools. Most, including my school, have everyone, 4 to 18 years, on one campus, so it does get a little crowded, but we tend to stick around in groups: we're very social people." I deliberately left out what sorts of lessons took place, the extracurricular activities and what we got up to in 'free time'. They already knew I wasn't a 'normal' person (though there weren't many of those these days) and I didn't want to give them too much unnecessary information.

"So why did you come here then? Your home sounds like a nice place, unless there's some sort of point we're missing." Lady Hannah's ageless brain struck the priceless question.

"It was an accident. Nothing went right after N.A.T.S came. She disrupts nature for higher purposes, so what happen to the four of us isn't unusual. Those that work for her, like me, can become terribly damaged from it, but so many benefit from it that we can't help but hang off her every word." For one of the few times in my existence, I was unsure of what to say next.

I looked at the faces around me. They were open and free. These people were facing war, but they weren't fully there yet. I did not see the hardness in theirs eyes that was bought upon those who saw turmoil and learnt to live with it. So much of that I had seen long ago.

I didn't know if they were ready for my story yet, or if N.A.T.S would let me tell it. Still, I had made up my mind. No whim of any other would stop me from weaving my sorrowful yarn into cloth. This would be were secrets were spilled.

"I don't know where to start this; it all began so long ago, before time. N.A.T.S is one of nine. That nine are one of another two groups of nine. The twenty-seven of them are probably the most important beings there are.

The three groups don't mix much, in fact they can't. Group 1 live in Maisty, a city the size of Earth on a planet the size of the sun, and are led by Aliceiana. They have a habit of keeping to themselves, but are the only ones to have been 'awake' for all time.

Group 2 are seen everywhere, a sort of gang of uber-travellers. They are led by N.A.T.S, and try to help those in need, if they help in return. N.A.T.S is forming an army for the final, final battle. The first group awakened them around 14 years ago, but pay little attention to the laws of time. They play conscience to group 3, who control their movements, somewhat.

Group 3 are humans, but are isolated from the others, in an out-of-bounds universe. The library is the base point for all universes. They all broke off from it, the last around 2000 years ago, when the library was isolated. Every book, film, story etc. in there is real, the gateway to another world. Everything the librarians see controls the movement of their 2nd group counter-part." I stopped then, to look at their faces. Different emotions splayed across their faces. The same emotions my empathy picked out of the air.

"So where do you tie into this, then?" The question caught me off guard, even though I'd been expecting it and was ready to answer.

"I was one of the first N.A.T.S recruited. I end up everywhere and meet everyone I stop people from wandering where they shouldn't, and attempt to improve my pityfull attempts to explain everything. Right now though, I'm lost. I wasn't sent here, though I've heard of your world before. I'm trying to find the positions of my teammates, so we can go back home. So far, I've had no luck."

"So where is this 'N.A.T.S' right now? Why can't she help you?" Delos' tone was overly sarcastic.

"Well," I began, "She has an alert that tells her when someone is talking about her behind her back, to stop spies and stuff. That means she's probably-"

"Probably standing in the corner listening to every word you say."

The voice came out of the corner nearest me, disembodied until halfway through the sentence, when she apparated in full sight, displaying all her terrible beauty. One of the nine had appeared.