Authors Note: Hahaha, it almost makes me laugh to write this, but what can you do? I don't want to completely abandon it, I mean, it was/is my most popular story to date, and I'd like to add that 'Awake in a Dream' was the fourth-added story in Class of the Titans :3. I ALSO ADDED COTT TO THE FANFICTION SITE, I MUST ADD. Yes, it was me. It's always been me. Haha, anyways, I just had to update this because or more than just that...

IT'S ANYA-PARADOX'S BIRTHDAY TODAY!!!!!!!

And by now all of you know, or should know, that she is the most amazing person in the history of ever. The Queen of Angst, the Duchess of Nudemania, and the Empress of my soul :3.

Yes guys, this love runs that deep. In a totally non Jay-Archie gay way xD.

SO THIS IS FOR HER, and for you, my wonderful-still-miraculously-there supports of the fic that lasted for over two years.

Thank you all—Nuuoa

"Can you feel it coming? The end of the world." –Theresa

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above

Chapter 5: Reality

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Sunlight streamed through the open window, and Theresa nestled contently in the warmth of the blankets. Bathed in gold, her hair shone brightly, light ginger mixed with tendrils of platinum. Her cheeks were dusted pink, still blushing from the events of the night before, fresh and tender in her mind. She wanted to stay sleeping for longer, but what was the point, when dreams were just as wonderful as reality?

Slowly, Theresa stretched her body out across the mattress, feeling for the smooth surface of her silk sheets, but found nothing. Confused, Theresa's fingers prodded around the covers, knowing before she did that there was something very wrong with the bed she was sleeping in. For her sheets were not cotton. Her eyes shot open. Nor were they decorated with little sailboats.

Shit.

Theresa sprung to her feet, but her legs were still newborn from the night before, and she fell face first into a plate of eggs and cold bacon.

"This is not my day..." Theresa sighed as she pulled herself back off the solid wood floor. It was cedar. Cedar was his favourite.

"Jay," she spoke her thoughts aloud, her cheeks flushing further in a danger red area than she had expected. Did he put her in his bed? Had he slept next to her all night? Had they... Did they... Did she? Scarlet had entirely claimed her face and was now spreading down her neck. No, she was sure they hadn't.

Even though she and Jay had be dating—what a glorious word it was, though it didn't fully express the relationship that had together—for a few days short of a year, it was their anniversary in seven days—the same day Theresa had come back to life, lost Khalil, and said goodbye to Annabelle Windlow, they still hadn't... consummated their relationship. Yet.

It was strange; it wasn't as if Theresa didn't want to, but when they had forever, why rush things? And she knew they would be together—always. And Jay wasn't one to take her half-asleep on his bed at three o' clock in the morning.

No, they hadn't slept together, but she was definitely in Jay's room, and still in her clothes from the night before.

Picking the larger portions of the, thankfully, scrambled eggs from her long hair, Theresa's eyes focused on the room around her. The high ceiling seemed even farther up than usual, the paintings of the stars watching down on her from its surface. To the right was Jay's large white bed, and next to that was his bookshelf and study desk.

It was all rather plain, to the untrained eye, but they did not know that those shelves contained the secrets of the Gods, and that that desk had helped save the world. The user just happened to be a bit tidier than the average male. Theresa probably would've continued gazing loving at the room she knew well, had it not been for the large note she found plastered to the miraculously saved breakfast plate.

Good morning, here's your breakfast! Herry, Odie, Neil, Arc and I have gone out to the movies; back around 7-ish. Atlanta is downstairs in your room, probably because she was too exhausted to make it to her own. Didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful.

Hope your dreams were pleasant. I know mine were; they were of you.

~Jay

P.S. Go Buy more bacn plz. Jay wasted all of it on you. you owe me. –Herry

Theresa giggled; she had dreamed of him too, from what she remembered.

It had been the first night that Cronus had not entered her head. When Jay had put her to bed, she had put to bed a thought of her own. After a year of worry, she knew Cronus would not return.

She was free.

Free to steal bacon, free to laugh, and free to love.

Theresa reread the note quickly, not bothering to blush this time; instead she gave a tiny smile. It was hard to get the corners of her mouth to go up easily though, even with Herry's hilarious comment and blocked letters mocking her once again.

"'Arc' ..." Theresa said tentatively. Jay had meant Archie. Theresa sighed, and with it she flicked the last piece of what had been her cold breakfast off her arm. She desperately wanted a shower, but she knew that she had to find Atlanta first.

Quickly dusting off her fuchsia tank-top, just to be sure, and tucking her hair behind her ears, Theresa raced down the hallway, eerie in its silence, and took a sharp turn to the left. Two more steps and she had reached her room; the thick white walls stood steady against her knocking hand.

Tap,

Tap,

Tap...

Nothing.

Theresa frowned and tried talking instead. "Atlanta? You in there?" Her voice was still hoarse from disuse.

"Atlanta?" She tried again. Still there was nothing. 'Guess I'll just have to get her up myself...' she thought. Theresa folded her hand around the firm metal, pulled, and nearly fell over again. She saw no Atlanta, but outside, through the window, it was pitch black.

She had slept for almost a whole day, but more disturbing than that, was that beyond the window, under the dull glow of the street lamp, as Atlanta.

She had a single knapsack placed on the ground.

"No."

A breath passed through her.

Theresa raced outside; fuelling her strides with desperation, she flew down the stairs and out into the cold of the new night. Atlanta spotted her.

"Dammit!" She cursed and didn't even bother to pick up her bag—the Odie-backpack that Jay had taken with him to the land of dreams—and made a bee-line for the hill that over-looked the other side of the city, just across the street from the brownstone.

Everything was moving too fast, Theresa couldn't keep up.

This wasn't happening. Not again.

"Atlanta! Stop! Please!" She followed her frantically up the hill. She would not lose her too! Her hair burned a trail through the black sky behind her. Up the hill they ran, until the grass brushing against their heels began to itch, and their thighs and lungs smouldered for release.

Theresa refused to give it. She was drawing nearer; she knew it was only because Atlanta had not exercised in a while. Even if she hadn't been living with her, she would have known it from the signs in her friend's face: The gaunt cheeks—Atlanta had not eaten much, but also the slight sag of fat that had developed around her stomach and arms.

It made her want to cry, her brain probably more alert due to the harsh night air and her physical exertion. Theresa could feel the strain of it too, eating away at her strength. Atlanta apparently did too, for she stopped not too far ahead.

It was the perfect opportunity! 'I have you!' Her feet longed to run, but she was stopped by an invisible force, stabbing her mind like a knife; a twang of danger pricking the back of her mind.

Her powers were still has strong as they had been a year ago, even though Persephone had stopped their training together as soon as Cronus had been defeated. Theresa had argued about possible dangers to come, but Persephone had said it was not their battle; not their destiny.

Theresa had refused to accept it.

That's why it felt so strange now, when her mind was beating against her skull with visions, that she suppressed them. Jay had been right: Cronus was gone. He had been their mission, their purpose; and now it was time to take a rest. It didn't mean that they had to do nothing though. They still had to fight—but what for what they knew was real. Cronus wasn't real anymore, but Atlanta was the realest thing of all.

Atlanta took Theresa's brief blankness to as an opportunity to flee, but Theresa could feel the uncertainty of her steps, the slowness that had settled in her ankles after a year of disuse. Yes, Atlanta was fast, beyond fast, but not as fast as she had used to be. A dislodged thought, Theresa was barely sure it was even her own, shook her mind. She felt her heart begin to weigh her down as Atlanta drew farther and farther up the hill, escalading into the inky blackness of the night sky.

She was faster when racing, not running.

Archie. The name struck down on her, and Theresa saw Atlanta stumble up ahead, falling face first into the ground. Yes, it seemed that that thought, at least, was not hers alone.

Atlanta got up quickly, brushing off stray hairs of grass. Theresa heard her snarl, preparing herself to run again, but before she could take another step, Theresa had reached her. There was escape, but no one moved.

The wind hissed, and the night was heavy on their backs. They stood facing each other, their eyes glistening and their chests heaving with the strain of their chase. Atlanta's shoulders slumped down. She looked like a wild animal: abused, cautious, but not giving up without a fight.

"I'm not leaving without you," Theresa said carefully, panting. Atlanta's eyes grew wide in shock, mirroring and reflecting the full-moon. It was a backdrop to her despair.

"Why don't you get it?" Atlanta seethed, "I'm not going back there. I'm leaving, and I don't want you following me."

"You're not leaving, Atlanta," Theresa tried to stay calm, cool, rational, but it became harder as the pain for her friend grew. What had happened to the girl Theresa had known and loved? The girl with the bright red hair, with the smile to match; whose excitement remained on everything she touched.

She was not here, that was for sure.

"Yes, I am. That's kinda the point of the whole: me-running-away-from-you thing."

"Away from me? Or away from him?" Theresa had unleashed the beast. Atlanta's eyes snapped to dark and her tongue lashed forth with rage.

"It has nothing to do with him okay?! He left. That was his choice. Why should I care? I'm strong enough to deal with that... I've always been strong enough..." Nothing but a whisper, "I have to be."

"Yes, you're strong enough, we all know that, but please, please, can't we all be strong together? We're all hurting—"

"HA. Please, don't make me laugh." The night grew colder. "You've been the happiest person since he left. I mean, why should you care? You've got Jay, everything's perfect! The princess lived happily-ever-after, but what about the heroine, hmm? No one ever wrote about her. So, what happens to her story? Where's her happy ending?"

Theresa gave no reply, she couldn't, even if she had had the words to say, for her eyes had settled beyond the horizon of black, down the hill side, and were locked-dead on something far, far worse than an unhappy ending.

"Theresa?" She barely heard Atlanta's voice; it was something far off, distant, and too normal for her ears to register, when her eyes were witnessing such an absurdity.

"Theresa?" Her friend called to her again. There was more urgency this time, and Theresa almost wondered what she looked like at that moment. Her eyes wide with dry tears, her face pale and cold, her hands white and shaking. She almost wondered what she looked like; almost.

"Theresa!" The urgency had gained a face, and Atlanta stood before her, her back to what had Theresa entranced and trembling. Atlanta was shaking now too; her hood had shaken free to reveal her purple hair, still starling in the dim moonlight, reminding her of a time when it was red.

"Can you feel it coming?" Theresa's breath caught the wind. Her words were fluid. Molten.

Ice.

Atlanta stood firm, her back still to where Theresa was facing. She was too afraid to turn; Theresa could sense it. She would have been afraid too, had the choice been offered to her. But it had not.

She had never had that choice. It was fate, what could she do? Theresa was stupid to have thought she could escape it, to think that this past year would last.

A rush of memories came flooding through her, filling her to her fingertips. Blurred recollections of sleeping in and laughter ringing through the halls; the crisp, cool sounds of snow-to-face, the first time they'd celebrated Christmas. But most of all, Theresa was drowning in the white-hot touch of Jay's lips to hers, his strong hands holding her close, and promising her the stars. He had promised her—promised her that her worries were only the traces of instinct, her fighter's heart still strained from years of struggle, still awaiting the battle to come. It had never come. Oh Zeus, but it had come now; for all good things came to an end, she knew that, and yet...

No. She was foolish to have ever believed otherwise. Somewhere, somehow, she had always known that it would come back to this.

"What, Theresa, feel what?" Atlanta's voice broke her heart, but not her resolve. They did not deserve this, her least of all. Atlanta did not deserve this, after everything that had happened with Archie; it did not matter. Theresa had long ago accepted that the word 'justice' was far too fickle a thing to trust. She only wished that the people she loved, the world, could have been spared from her feud with fate. The threads were wound tighter than ever. They were binding. They were choking her.

But wishing did nothing. And from a dream you always woke up.

Or maybe you never woke up?

She was awake in a dream.

"The end of the world."

Atlanta turned. There heard something drop to the ground; she realized it was their hope.

Yes, they were awake in a dream, or maybe a dream in themselves. A nightmare. The plagues of the past came bubbling up, eager to fest of their sorrow. But there was no sorrow. Theresa felt nothing; nothing but the burdened, uneven breathing of her chest, and the silent sobs that cradled Atlanta's laughter. For there he stood, the most unimaginable thing, and neither of them could have tricked their eyes so thoroughly, even in this dark. Why would they have wanted too?

Their dream ended here.

For before them, just down the hill, in all his glory, stood the one man who had taken away everything they had loved, could love, and would ever love. And he was back to reclaim them.

And so it was that she heard Atlanta speak the one thing she wished to never have to hear again, the one name that would kill her.

Again.

"Cronus."

The man beneath their gaze just laughed. His red eyes glistened and his white teeth flashed.

Theresa blinked, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone.

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Author's Note: Okay, so reality is a BITCH. Anya, I tried to throw in everything you love: angst, Archie, angst, fluff, angst, Nuu-isms, ANGST, and Jay's bed having little sailboats on them, haha. I'm actually excited for this one now guys, and if anyone likes it, but doesn't want to read through Awake in a Dream 1, then feel free to ask for a previous plot summary. It'd be more than happy to send it to you :). Thank you all again!

P.S. Wouldn't Jay be the best house-wife? He cleans his room and makes you breakfast without complaint!

P.P.S. Wow... This chapter had so little dialogue... Sorry, and I will reintroduce the other characters shortly! Also sorry for the fact that the beginning/the Atlanta transition really sucked...

I needed to get this up for Anya!—Nuuoa