Key of Dreams

by Jebest4781

Through a chance encounter whilst sleeping within his Somebody's heart, Roxas met an entity who'll change his existence more than he realized. Rated M for language, violence, etc. Pairings hidden at current time. KHxDC Comics Cowritten by free man writer. Please leave reviews.

3. Dream a Little Dream of Me

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Disney, Square Enix or Detective Comics. They rightfully belong to their respective owners.

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Radio/TV

"Headset/Flashback"

-Scene Shift-

Chapter 3: Dream a Little Dream of Me

It was late at night in a suburban home an hour's drive outside of London. The crescent moon was dimly shining with a number of clouds hovering overhead. By the recent forecast readings, it was going to eventually rain and continue on in the morning.

Walking up to the place was a man hiding in the shadows. He left the Porsche half a mild back down the road. He hopes it won't get stolen. There are some real thieves around these days.

During the day, the man is an investment counselor. But at night, he's what he calls himself a Creeper.

Breaking into people's houses while they're still at home. And it's quite the sport.

Finding a drain pipe, he climbed up it's length to find a half open window. Once reaching it, he struggled a bit to open it wider for him to slip right in. After sneaking into the home, he turned on the flashlight to see he was in an upstairs bedroom.

The Creeper did take note of the smell, but didn't pay much mind to it as he will be in and out of the place in no time. All he had to do was find whatever wallets, DVDs, CDs, collectors items, and game consoles he could carry out of the residence. He thinks of it as his contribution to the free market economy.

Not long after he tried to scope the upstairs, his vision seemed to shift…

And he…

He…

He… must be seeing things.

He must be dreaming.

Right before him, he was approached by one of the hottest models the world has ever had. They soon embraced as they began tearing each other's clothes off before succumbing to their primal urges.

He can feel the warm tightness of her skin; the scent of sex soon filling the air. Her lips taste like roses and passion, and she holds him like her life depended on it.

This is too good.

This was too good to be true.

The moment he climaxed into her, he found himself riding the Lamborghini of his dreams, hitting 150mph on the open road. Everybody's green with envy. The acceleration goes on forever and ever.

In a blink of an eye, he found himself being crucified. Instead of screaming in agony, he was actually enjoying it. He was dying for everyone and they loved him. He's pure and perfect and he's dying for their sins.

He can see his parents, his boss, his lovers in the crowd below him. He hears their cries for forgiveness. Proclaiming how sorry they were. Sorry on how they treated him so badly. Because he's the Son of God. And he doesn't care as he flips them off to go to Hell.

Everything then began to shift once more. No longer crucified, he was now flying in the sky wearing a uniform befitted of a superhero, befitted of a member of the Justice League. Saving the day, winning the damsel in distress and becoming beloved by all.

He can do anything.

Anything.

Absolutely anything… in his dreams.

For in reality, he was lying on the ground as his body started to spasm. His head made contact with a nearby piece of furniture, resulting in a head wound. He might die soon on two fronts; with the recent injury not being taken care of to how intense the seizure he was experiencing at this very moment as he was entrapped in his dreams.

-Morning, London-

A man was tossing and turning in his bed, his breaths were laboring due to how fierce the dream he was experiencing was affecting him. Even when he wakes, the dream is taxing on his very being.

Soon the alarm clock by his bedside blared to life, abruptly waking the man from his slumber. After several moments, he slammed his hand on the device to shut it off for the day.

Once the alarm was silenced, he reached out to where the pack of cigarettes was placed and fumbled around before finally clasping onto the box. Once in his grasp, the man rose from his comforter and let the bedsheet fall off him as he sat up.

With the partial morning light seeping into the room, it partially revealed the man's strong, handsome features. Stark blonde hair with a faint 5 o'clock shadow and bright blue eyes which had seemed to dull over the years.

Opening the lid of the cigarette pack, the man saw he was on his last stick until he went out to buy some more later today. Withdrawing the cigarette, he placed it between his lips before bringing up his hand.

With a snap of his fingers, a small magical flame formed above his thumb as he used it to light the nicotine stick.

This man was John Constantine; consultant, detective, exorcist, demonologist, and practitioner of the mystic arts.

People say cigarettes will kill him some day, due to the amount John smokes on a weekly basis. Of course, he doesn't give a rat's ass about it as death won't come to him easily.

John drew the smoke into his lungs. The nicotine and tar was extracted to help give him a bit of a kick to wake up in the morning. And the coughing which came soon after helped finish it off.

There was something about the smoke that somewhat mesmerizes John when he takes the first puff for the day. Especially when the ash occasionally crumbles down from the cigarette and falls down onto his bedsheet.

His apartment was a total mess. Beer bottles and cans littered several parts of the floor, cigarette butts overflowing the trays, newspapers and magazines adding a layer onto the floor. And many books of varying subjects were piled up at every other corner.

He ought to clean up the place.

He was long overdue in doing so, but he kept delaying it every day.

Looking at the nearby calendar on the wall, he saw a sticky note of his handwriting. Rising from the bed, he walked over to read what he wrote to himself.

It was then did John finally remember that he definitely needed to clean his apartment today. The landlord was stopping by later to inspect the place and if John didn't make it remotely clean, then he would be kicked out.

No ifs ands or buts around the issue at all.

Clicking his tongue, John went to work. And to help alleviate the partial quietness in his apartment during his cleaning, the Englishman turned on the television as the morning news was being delivered.

"-reports of coma patients waking up throughout many parts of the world are apparently flooding in." Spoke a newswoman. "Cases of Encephalitis Lethargica -or the 'Sleeping Sickness' dating back since 1916 and as 1926 have been seen as an epidemic; either due to a supposed 'psychic residue' from WW1 or an apparent virus. No one was certain as scientists have-"

This seemed to peak John's interest to a certain degree. A mass waking of coma patients all at once? That might be something to look into sometime in the foreseeable future unless something else were to come up.

As time went on for his spring cleaning, a feeling roamed through his head.

...Have you ever had one of those days when something just seems to be trying to tell you somebody?

There was a smell of magic somewhere, like the blue-sparks smell of ozone at a funfair.

He'd just had another nightmare last night.

It dealt with things with faces like appendectomy scars crocheting his intestines into body bags for the blind and dead.

He told himself it was only a dream, but it didn't matter. The bastards tormenting him kept on bloody knitting.

If it weren't those particular nightmares, John would dream of ley-lines and leptons, plasma fields and turf giants. Jobs he took in the past so he may pay the bills and whatnot.

It would only be then will his dreams get scary and bad. Only then will things often go back to his normalcy of his sleep cycle.

John was oddly thankful that he didn't dream of Newcastle for the upteenth time in a row last night. Sure it was quite traumatic, but after a while it does grow old on seeing the same old thing over and over again.

Then again, it was his fault on how it ended and he had to live through his mistake, his guilt for the rest of his days because of it. It only seemed depressingly fair that he would be reminded of it.

It took quite a while to fully spruce up the apartment. The floor was sweeped and mopped up, the cleaned windows were opened so the rainy air can help ventilate the living space, the kitchen area and washroom was scrubbed down to a near shine.

John had to be thorough as his landlord was a picky bastard with messy tenants. And the collected mess was now in a couple of garbage bags placed by the doorway.

Once that task was finally finished, John went to finally clean himself up.

After some time in the washroom, he came out remotely clean with hot steam exiting the doorway. The magical practitioner then dressed up in his typical attire, his uniform his mind seems dead set on.

It consisted of a typical white long sleeve button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Loosely hanging around his neck and under the collar was a red tie. It went well with his black slacks and steel toed shoes. And for the final touch was the beige trenchcoat which he withdrew from the hanger by the door.

With him ready for the day, he took the garbage bags and left his apartment so he may deposit them into the dumpsters in the back before he may finally start off his day.

"Hullo London." John greeted the British capital. "How are you today? You look ravishing as always."

An imaginary conversation was made towards the magic practitioner as a means of greetment. It was light and airy, that despite the cold drizzle crashing down on him, Constantine felt warm for the briefest of moments.

For years, John knew London like the back of his hand. Learning every alley and every shadowy corner of her soul.

London was his home and he wanted to treat her well. He was like the city's unofficial protector from the supernatural… to some capacity. And it seemed London treated him alright in turn.

Looking at the clock hanging by a nearby building, John saw it was nearly lunchtime so he'll stop by his usual place for brunch.

After walking a number of blocks, John soon walked through the doorway of Ed's Easy Diner.

"John Constantine." Spoke the diner's owner. "You're here earlier than usual."

"Morning, Leigh. You're busier than usual." Said John in response, earning a chuckle from the man. Sitting on the barstool, Constantine gave his order. "Give me a cheeseburger and two mugs of coffee. It's going to be a long day. Oh and you got a coin for the jukebox?"

"Sure do, depends on what you wanna play."

"This song I used to sing in Mucous Membrane ages ago. 'I Heard it through the Grapevine.' Practically my theme song."

Once given the coin, John inserted it into the machine and selected the desired song. Yet it wouldn't play right away.

"The hell's wrong with this thing?" John said, smacking the jukebox.

"It's temperamental, that's all. You oughta learn to press the right buttons. Maybe you are not awake yet."

John hummed a little as Leigh went to work on his customer's order. And soon enough the song John used to sing started playing from the machine.

"Sweet dreams of you…

Every n-i-i-ight I go through…

The who-ole night through

instead of having sweet dreams all about you…"

Some memories surfaced in John's mind as he remembered the good old days with Chaz and the other members of the band. All of the fun days and nights traveling around on their tour… before things went to shit at Newcastle.

Then something or rather some feeling came around and got him to snap out of his remembrance.

"Hmm… Something trying to tell me somebody…?"

*WHUMP* *WHUMP*

"Oh, somebody trying to tell you something?" Leigh said aloud. "Yes indeed." He pointed behind John, showing a homeless woman banging on the diner's windows. "I think it's your girlfriend outside."

Turning his head around, John instantly recognized her. "Jesus! Mad Hettie…"

"Yeah, don't let her in here." Said Leigh as John rose from his seat. "It'll take forever to get rid of the smell."

Exiting the diner, John greeted the homeless woman as the rain drizzle finally came to an end. "Hettie, good to see you on this fine day."

"John, come with me into the alley, it's important."

Constantine rose a brow on the request as she hurried towards said space behind the diner. Reaching the alley, he saw her rummaging through the trash cans and dumpster.

"...Are you wanting me to watch you rummage through Leigh's bins again?" He asked, earning a quick "no" from her. "What then?"

"He's back, John."

"Who's back?"

Mad Hettie gave Constantine a surprised look. "You don't know? You ort ter know, smart boy. Morpheus. Dream. The Oneiromancer. You know… him. He's back."

John was quite bewildered by her claim. "Dream… of the Endless? You oughta be pullin' my leg."

"Cheeky young jackanapes!" She snapped at him.

"Look, the Sandman's a fairy story you tell kids to get them off to sleep. Sprinkles magic dust in your eyes and brings you… sweet dreams." Hettie ignored him as she kept rummaging through the bins. "I'm trying to save the world from dark forces and the like, Mad Hettie. And you want to tell me fairy stories."

"Now you listen ter me, John Constantine, you little prick!" Snapped the homeless woman once more. "I sed Morpheus, an' I meant bloodin' Morpheus! He's back, John and 'e wants 'is own." Came her argument. "I know… And I'm 267 years old and I know! He's back!"

John merely raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright." He said before seeing her sing a tune to herself as she resumed rummaging through Leigh's bins.

Walking out of the alley, Constantine went back into the diner to get his morning meal.

Funny thing is, Hettie is 267 years old, give or take.

She has abilities as a haruspex and was accused as a witch two centuries ago. However she claims that she doesn't live for so long without learning a number of tricks. And John knew she was telling the truth, something which he took on into his profession ever since he first dabbled into magic as a child.

"Morpheus, eh?" He whispered out. "Seems I know what I'll be looking into today."

-Elsewhere-

This World has most certainly changed.

This was the general thought of Dream as he observed his present surroundings.

He knew that progress was a part of mortal nature. Nothing can truly stay stagnant for long as change is inevitable. It occurs one way or another, even if it slips through the cracks of the proverbial wall.

Just about every century, there is quite the amount of it. From landscapes, architecture, and fashion to philosophies, culture, politics and ideologies as a number of examples. They live and shift along the proverbial road and currents before dying to give way to the new.

Time often changes everything, not even the various deities out in the cosmos can escape its grasp.

Morpheus had missed much in this past century as it was robbed from him. He already knew there were a number of people he lost the chance of meeting and interacting with again, all because of Roderick Burgess and his cult. No doubt once he regains his power and tools -along with the final part of his vengeance- he will have to meet up with those people he had prior appointments with.

Most could be forgiving, others neutral and the rest would no doubt be offended for being late. It often depends on their character if they would accept his excuse of imprisonment or not.

Regardless, it was bad manners for him to miss such meetings and he'll have to make up for his unintended tardiness in due time.

"This city sure looks interesting." The teen blond standing next to him commented, looking around at the unique city.

"I concur, Roxas."

Trotting beside the blonde Nobody was a large, black magisterial cat with wild bushy fur. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary of it, unless one would stare into its eyes to view pitch black spots with dim stars within them.

This was the form Morpheus presently took so he may search and investigate alongside Roxas.

The Dream Lord could've taken on a humanoid form during their present search, but he chose otherwise for the time being. He wanted to be extra careful this time around during this new era on Earth.

Morpheus had done so in these past millennia, occasionally visiting the mortal plane due to his sister's insistence. He didn't care if his unique appearance would draw attention.

This time, however, he wasn't at full strength as he wouldn't be able to properly hold off on his own. He was severely handicaped, as it were.

Thus he had to hide in plain sight.

"This London reminds me of another one." Was Roxas' offhand comment.

Morpheus raised a brow at this, but was reminded that the Keybearer would've visited a World which was like this one in some shape or form.

"And what was your assumption of that London?"

"Mind you I didn't explore it, but had seen part of the city like Big Ben. Outside of that, I've only explored the World which was connected to that particular London." Commented the Keybearer. "But what I did see, it looked well given it was only for a short while and it was at the dead of night."

The blond Nobody would've elaborated more, giving details of Sora's time on Captain Hook's ship The Jolly Roger. But that would have diverged from what they were presently doing.

"Just asking this now, Morpheus, but are you sure this John Constantine would be here in London and not somewhere else?"

For a number of hours today, these two have been exploring most of London. It was done in two parts: to survey the city in finding the Englishman's whereabouts and for Morpheus' curiosity of the current state of this small corner of the World.

They've visited a number of locations during their self-tour like the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, the London Eye along the River Thames and

"Because of his family's lineage in these past centuries."

"That's quite the assumption."

"In part, Roxas." Spoke the magisterial cat. "For a long time, I've kept track of the Constantine lineage and dated them back for generations."

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because of the Englishman's ancestor, Lady Johanna Constantine." Morpheus thus elaborated. "She'd done me a few favors when she was alive and I had repaid most of them to my present knowledge."

Roxas would've voiced an inquiry, asking about what the Endless being did to repay John Constantine's ancestor, when they passed by a number of TV monitors showing a news broadcast.

The Nobody would've ignored such a thing to some degree, but what was being shown drew in his and Morpheus' attention.

"-Presently, members of the Justice League had arrived on the scene of the massive explosion which occurred in Beirut, Lebanon. The 3.5 magnitude quake caused massive damage across the city from the explosion, which the League is doing all they can on the relief effort. By most estimation, it'll take the rest of the day for Beirut to be cleared of its present state."

Both Roxas and Morpheus watched the reported headline play out with amature footage of all members of the Justice League helping the injured through various means. Some were using their super strength to help uplift buildings to help search for survivors.

"An investigation is reported to be taking place on how this explosion occurred. Most theorize it was a terrorist act, but some sources claim-"

"Seems we finally know who this 'League of Justice' is." Said the Nobody as he saw the number of costumed individuals who performed all sorts of extraordinary feats.

"Indeed." Said the Dream Lord. "A title of their group. We will need to learn of their present whereabouts in order to find my ruby."

"For now, we stick to the plan of finding John Constantine first."

The pair kept on moving as they soon entered St. Paul's Cathedral.

For the upteenth time today, no one really paid Roxas' furry companion any mind. Either they didn't exactly care at all of his presence or the Endless being was using some sort of enchantment to divert attention away from him.

The greater Nobody didn't fully question it as he was more focused on his surroundings in case of anything. While he was indeed exploring the city and searching for any sign of this John Constantine of his whereabouts, Roxas was keeping an eye out on Heartless.

No matter where he went off to, they would always show up at some point.

"They've greatly renovated the place since I've last been here."

Roxas didn't comment about that particular detail. All he did was look at the vast design of the inner architecture.

The Angelican-styled structure was very fascinating to him as it differed from Notre Dame from what he saw in Sora's memories with it's gothic look. Both were quite grand in both size and beauty and Roxas was ultimately glad he was seeing this in person rather than reflecting on his Somebody's memories.

From the stonework, stained glass, archways, etc. And the outer appearance differed from it's interior with it changing over the years due to the weather, rain and the sun changing it over time. Everything was maintained well over the years since it was first built and renovated as time went on for it's present domed additions on the cathedral.

From what Roxas could understand from Morpheus, this building -along with a number of others around this World- reflects the way it shapes the lives, ideas and culture of those who occupy it's spaces. Before the printing press came to be, architecture was the dominant way to communicate and dogmatize big ideas on a wide scale.

Actions, philosophies, politics, it doesn't really matter for the people who live through those might not carry them on years later. For the architecture often outlives and outlasts any of these individual mortal flaws and ultimately weathers all of their flaws as it's still a much bigger shaper of cultural identity than any individual out there.

Well, that is unless something were to happen to the building in question like it's unfortunate destruction.

Roxas did note Morpheus' "feline" features of a saddened appearance. No doubt the Dream Lord still missed his home as the pain was still fresh.

Hopefully once retrieving his property, the healing process will take place. How long said process will be, the Nobody will never know.

After spending some time walking throughout the space, giving comparisons and noting different parts of the building, the pair decided to leave and resume their tour of London while finding John Constantine.

The pair walked out of St. Paul's Cathedral and had gone through several blocks when they saw a number of vans sped past them. Neither paid much mind to them as they kept on walking.

Rounding a corner some minutes later, they spotted the same vans now parked in front of the Old Bailey Courthouse-

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

The sound of gunfire could be heard from inside of the building.

Whereas Roxas bore a startled reaction, his "feline" companion was cool and collected.

"What's going on?" He muttered aloud, soon hearing some faint commotion from the courthouse. The Keybearer then saw the guard outside wasn't reacting at all, making him a bit suspicious. "Why isn't he doing anything?"

"Why don't you ask him." Morpheus said challengingly.

Roxas did just that, quickly jogging to the security guard outside of the nearby entrance.

"Hey, I heard gunfire and-"

The sandy blonde didn't get the chance to finish as the guard tried to shoot him. The bullets did miss their mark as Roxas quickly reacted and swiftly turned to appear behind the guard. From there, the Keybearer delivered a spartan kick to the man's exposed back which sent him flying and crashing to one of the vans across the street before toppling unconscious onto the cold pavement.

"Something's not right." Noted the blonde Nobody. "Why would he-"

"You can ask your questions later, Roxas." Said the Endless being. "For now, it might be best to resolve this new issue at hand."

Morpheus would've told the Keybearer to ignore this situation entirely and keep on the search for Constantine, but he knew better. Those chosen by the Keyblade are hard to ignore situations of distress of those around them and would jump into stopping catastrophes. So instead of withholding his Nobody companion from acting accordingly, he is letting him do what is presently needed.

Giving a quick nod, Roxas rushed inside with his "feline" companion following after him.

Entering the Old Bailey Courthouse, the sandy blonde viewed the gorgeous interior of the historical building, decorated with marbles and statues which were completed a little over a century ago. There were pieces of modern equipment here and there for some form of security and whatnot, but they didn't distract away from the beauty the surroundings had.

Of course this was mostly ruined with the state of disarray with men clad in black suits patrolling the halls with automatic weapons in their possession.

Wanting to deal with them right away, Oathkeeper appeared within his grasp and went to work.

One of the black clad men soon noticed the Keybearer. He raised his gun and was ready to fire, only for it to be swatted aside by a horizontal swing by the Keyblade. The now broken gun clattered to the ground with Roxas surging forward and delivering a whirling roundhouse kick to the chest.

The recent blow sent the man flying to one of the nearby attackers. Some of the other ones soon acted and started firing upon the new arrival.

Roxas sped forward, avoiding the incoming bullet before zooming into their location. One by one, they were met by Oathkeeper's flattened side when it's owner smacked their heads and sent them crashing down to either the ground or the nearby walls.

"Get the brat!"

Other black clad men tried to take out the blonde Nobody, but the hooded teen was already moving. He jabbed the tip of his weapon into the wielded hand of one of the men, making him cry out and let go of his gun. Once it clattered to the ground, Roxas rendered him unconscious with a quickened blow before zooming onto his next opponent.

The results were more or less the same amongst the others on how Roxas took care of them. Either sweeping their legs off the ground or striking their upper bodies before delivering an additional blow to render them unconscious or immobilizing as a groaning mess.

With this all done, Roxas approached one of the conscious members of this attack on the Old Bailey -who was lying against a wall- and decided it was time to get some answers.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The man wasn't complying, making Roxas conjure a ball of Fire in his hand and drew it close to the man's face.

"Tell me now or else."

This quickly got the man to talk.

"We are a group of reactionary terrorists who wanna turn back the clock in Europe a thousand years-"

"Why?" He asked as the black cat walked up to them.

"There is no use interrogating him on their group's goals." Morpheus said to Roxas, which startled the terrorist. "It'll take too much time."

"Right." The Keybearer turned his attention away from the "feline" and back to the man before him. "Then where are the hostages?"

Focusing away from the talking "creature" beside the hooded teen, the terrorist spoke. "You won't reach them in time, boy. Their lives will be lost with what we're doing."

"Doing what?"

"Stalling time for the countdown." The terrorist soon chuckled. "In a couple of minutes, four city blocks," he made a *Boom* sound with his voice, "while the world watches."

This startled the sandy blonde, making him quickly knock the man out. The moment the terrorist's body fell to the ground, Roxas practically flew through the hallways. He combed through the one floor before reaching through the next one as Morpheus' feline legs carried him onward.

It was then did the Keybearer hear some commotion from a blocked off room.

"Shut up!" Spoke what Roxas quickly assumed to be a terrorist to possibly the assembled hostages. After all, he didn't see any on the bottom floor. "I said, shut your fucking mouths!"

Reading his stance, Roxas prepared to make an abrupt entrance.

Inside of the closed off room, the rest of the black clad terrorists were standing around as a handful of them were keeping their automatic weapons trained at the hostages, composed of the courthouse workers and an assembly school children and their supervising teachers who were here for a school trip.

On the other side of this room was the orchestrator of these present events as he was watching the countdown on the activated bomb reaching zero.

The leader of the terrorist group was thankful for the explosion in Beirut, Lebanon. If it weren't for that, then their present task in blowing up four city blocks from the Old Bailey would've been much harder to pull off. With all of the Justice League members presently occupied with the clean up on the devastation, his group can easily act accordingly on what will finally happen in less than thirty seconds.

*CRASH-KOOM*

It all happened in an utter instant. The only entrance to this room burst open in a splintered mess. The perpetrator for this was a teenager wearing a leather black leather outfit with its hood fully covering his features. In his hand was a peculiar looking sword.

Not much could be really observed on the new arrival as the rest of the terrorists were quick to fire upon the hooded teen.

As the bullets flew, Roxas rushed and swung Oathkeeper at the nearest man, who was sent flying across the room. From there, he leaped towards a pair of terrorists and delivered a few quick blows to take care of them. After that, he delivered a spartan kick towards an incoming attacker which sent him crashing to a nearby desk. As he tried to get back up, the greater Nobody crashed down on top of him, grabbed one of his legs and flung him another terrorist.

When that was done, Roxas quickly raised Oathkeeper to block a volley of bullets. After the attempted onslaught ended, he rushed forward and crashed into the perpetrator, grappled and flung him to the far off wall right before striking down another terrorist.

As that terrorist flew to the nearby hostages, the Keybearer zoomed in to intercept the collision. Grasping onto the man's arm, he flung him to another terrorist before swinging his weapon to disarm the others nearby. And in mere seconds, he destroyed the automatic guns so they wouldn't be of further use. From there, the Nobody performed a Strike Raid as it was flung forward and spun around a limited space to knock out several more enemies.

With the other terrorists taken care of, all that was left was the man standing near an opened briefcase. Looking at it's contents from afar, Roxas saw it was the bomb as there were explosives with the timer presently counting down from twenty seconds with an occasional beep.

"Stop the bomb, now!" Roxas demanded.

"I won't." Was the eerily calm reply.

"I see…"

With his freed hand, he clenched it into a fist while he kept his focus on the bomb. A Dark Corridor appeared on the surface of the table as it swallowed up the weapon. From there, he had it reappear somewhere above a barren part of an ocean somewhere on this planet where it exploded some moments later with nothing being harmed at all.

As his little task was complete, Roxas decided to have some little fun with the terrorist. "Then it seems your bombing threat was all for naught."

No longer hearing the timer's beeping, the terrorist leader glanced aside and saw that his bomb was no longer there.

Not wanting to become distracted, he quickly drew his automatic weapon and turned off the safety. But instead of aiming it towards the new arrival, he turned towards the assembled hostages, who all screamed and whimpered.

If he wasn't going to destroy this courthouse and four city blocks, he might as well kill most of the hostages like lambs to the slaughter. And he had the feeling this wannabe hero wouldn't be able to save all of them.

The moment the terrorist leader pulled the trigger, he saw the muzzle flash as the bullets left the chamber.

It was at this moment did Roxas act once more.

Zooming towards the trajectory of the first batch of bullets, Roxas swiftly twirled his Keyblade in order to block the incoming volley of projectiles. He saw the terrorist turn his weapon to the side to carry on with the attempted slaughter, causing the Nobody to rush onward to intercept the attack on the innocent.

Each and every bullet was successfully blocked as the crumbled projectiles clattered onto the floor after they were met with Oathkeeper's surface.

By the time the magazine came to an abrupt end, a resounding click was heard from the automatic weapon.

This got the terrorist leader to become a tad nervous on numerous means as he saw the hooded teen just standing there as he successfully protected all of the hostages.

"Who are you?" Muttered out the black clad man.

Roxas soon gave his response. "Me? I'm just a Nobody."

With that said, Roxas disappeared in a blur. As the terrorist leader looked around in confusion, he didn't see the Keybearer appear behind him. With a quick smack across his head, the man crumbled to the marble floor as he was brought to slumber.

With the last of the terrorists dealt with, Roxas called out to the huddled hostages.

"Is everyone alright? Are any of you hurt?"

Hearing some quick responses of the hostages were okay, Roxas breathed out a sigh of relief.

"That's great." He walked towards them and started helping get a number of them onto their feet. "Alright, it's over now. But I believe it's best if you all get out of here."

The assembled hostages were quick to vacate the room and Roxas saw to it to have them all leave before him. Once the last one was out, the hooded teen tailed behind them in case any of the conscious terrorists were to get back up on their feet and attack.

There were a few who did chase after them upon reaching the stairs, but Roxas was quick to react in properly taking care of them. The same did occur shortly after reaching the bottom floor.

Roxas saw to it in seeing all of the hostages vacate the courthouse. And it was by this time did the local law enforcement arrive onto the scene.

Seeing the hostages were now safe from harm brought a smile onto the hooded teen's face.

He soon felt something brush against his leg. Looking down, he saw his "feline" companion wanting to get his attention now.

"We best keep moving and not draw further attention." Spoke Morpheus as he nudged his head over to the assembled crowd of law enforcement and hostages were now looking at him.

Roxas agreed to Morpheus' suggestion, rushing back into the building and opening a Corridor of Darkness for them to quickly leave the area and arrive elsewhere.

At first, Roxas was hesitant in wanting the Dream Lord to travel through such a manner when coming to London in the first place, but Morpheus assured him the Darkness would not harm him at all, even at his weakened state.

All he could do was trust the Endless being on his word as they once again traversed through the Dark Corridor so they could wind up anywhere else but here.

By the time the Corridor disbursed, the law enforcement stormed the building, seeking him out. Seeing as he was nowhere to be seen, they kept moving in so they may apprehend the terrorists.

-Later, with John-

"Sweet dreams are made of this~

Who am I to disagree?

I've traveled the world and the seven seas~

Everybody's lookin' for something~"

The Englishman was softly singing "Sweet Dreams" by Anne Lennox under his breath as he was combing through the vaste book isles of the Royal Museum.

He had been here since leaving Ed's Easy Diner as he wanted to figure out this whole Sandman business. The Englishman was none the wiser of what was happening outside of this very building during these past hours, but will no doubt hear it at some point within the next day or so.

John had nothing else going on with no sudden actions to take. He could've taken his time on this matter, but if he kept on delaying such a thing; it would've bugged him for a long time.

John could use the internet to help speed up his research. The virtual library as many called it when it first started up back in the 90's. But now, about 70% of the information you find there is utter shit and inaccurate. Not to mention a good chunk is comprised of porn and spam these days.

If John wanted to find any genuine content for his investigative work, he would have to go to the libraries to find the good stuff. And god forbid he would resort to the internet as combing through all that hot mess would take a whole lot longer to find what he desired.

Thus he had to go to the Royal Museum of all places in hopes of finding something… anything on this Sandman business.

And luck would have it, he found a clue in the museum's occult and magic collection…

Or at least traces of it.

From what John was able to dig up, there was a book, the Magdalene Grimoire, which was rumored to have details on unique, powerful summonings. It was the only copy of its kind and had turned up missing around the end of WW1 among several others. Either it was due to theft or misplacement, no one has ever found any of them ever again.

The situation somewhat reminded him of what happened at the Messiah Public Library over in France. Alexandre Dumas stole the Memoirs of Mister d'Artagnan, Lieutenant Captain of the First Company of the King's Musketeers by Gatien de Courtilz de Sandras in order to make the Three Musketeers. And the library apparently still has the card index to this day.

Boy… the library fines would be utterly atrocious for their return.

John dwelled a bit deeper on events around that particular time period and was able to find some newspaper articles dating back to June 1920.

It was reported that the museum's senior curator, Professor John Hathaway, was being investigated due to the loss of many artifacts during the past few years at this very museum. No one truly knew the reason why this occurred, but it was somewhat rumored Dr. Hathaway was being blackmailed as it was out of character for him to act in such a way. Whatever the case may be, the stress of the public eye heavily scrutinizing him apparently drove the museum curator further into a speculated mental illness, which started over the loss of his son during WW1. This all resulted in his bizzare suicide by stabbing himself with a ceremonial knife from the Royal Museum.

There was a suicide note, but it was hard to read from it's remains as it was burned.

Accusations were made through rumors, linking Hathaway to Roderick Burgess and his Order of Ancient Mysteries; an occult organization. Nothing could be proven with the lack of evidence, resulting in both him and his group to be seen innocent.

"The old Demon King, eh?" Muttered Constantine.

While it was speculated back then by the general public, it was more well known in the magical practitioners today of the truth of Burgess and his ilk. They collected and traded a vast array of occult objects throughout parts of the world from their headquarters located at "Fawney Rig" over at Wych Cross.

The group apparently grew in popularity as it was rumored the "Daemon King" had summoned and imprisoned Death itself, but the occult leader neither confirmed nor denied such things.

Of course John, like many others of magical nature, thought otherwise.

Investigating further, Constantine read that Roderick's son -Alex Burgess- had defended his father's name and the organization he inherited over the decades after the passing of the "Daemon King" in 1947. It was a means to cover up their secret actions so no one can investigate what they did at "Fawney Rig".

This stopped a few decades back when the Order of Ancient Mysteries apparently "dissolved" and fell out of public interests.

"Might check 'em out when I get the chance." Muttered John as he put away the newspapers back where they belonged.

Collecting the books he assembled over his time at the library, he sorted out the ones he saw no further use from the ones he had yet to read. After that, he put the former in the return bin while he checked out the latter.

"Be sure you bring them back on time, Constantine." Spoke the librarian.

"I won't."

"I mean it, John. Last time you owed quite the amount of pounds-"

"Yes, I know."

Walking out of the library with a small stack of books on hand, John made the awkward trek back home. And to pass some of the time, he softly sang another song, one by Bobby Darin.

"Every night I hope and pray

A dream lover will come my way

A girl to hold in my arms

And know the magic of her charms"

If he was more attentive and not singing, he would've noticed that he was being tailed for the trek back to his place.

After some time walking, Constantine made it back to his apartment building and was fiddling with his keys to unlock the door to his home-

"Um, excuse me."

John blinked, turned around and saw a teenage boy wearing a large black leather trench coat with silver chains and ornaments with the hood drawn up. Said hood was dark enough to cover his face with only a small shadow barely revealing his mouth. And right beside the teen's legs was a mangy pitch black cat with these creepy white-dotted eyes.

After taking a glance at them, he can sense the power within them. This made him a tad cautious on top of the ominous attire the kid wore with the feel surrounding both him and the cat.

Almost reminded him of a bratty Lord of Chaos.

"You wouldn't happen to be John Constantine, right?"

"Well, I'm not Doctor Livingstone, kid." Roxas was merely silent as his hidden eyes blinked in confusion. "Sorry. Little joke. Very little."

"I have… no idea who this doctor you are referring to is."

John exhaled a small groan as he soon muttered under his breath. "Trouble with most kids these days. Need to pick up a good book for once- Look, is there a reason why you're here? If it's something pointless or you're relaying a message from some godforsaken demon or magical bastard I owe something towards, then buzz off."

"First off, rude. Second, we are not here for whatever you're assuming."

"...I'm sorry, we?"

"He's referring to me."

In a blink of an eye, the mangy black cat disappeared and in its place was the Lord of Dreams.

"Shit."

The sudden appearance Morpheus did had caused John to drop his checked out books from the library as they clattered on the hallway floor.

"You dropped your books."

"Let me take care of them." Said the hooded teen, kneeling down and cleaning up the mess.

Overcoming and recomposing from his momentary state of surprise, John spoke. "And who are you supposed to-"

"Something of mine came into your possession." Interrupted the chalk-white man, wanting to get to the business at hand. "A leather pouch, full of sand. I want it back. Where is it?"

It took John a few moments for him to recollect his thoughts and realize what the Dream Lord was referring to. "That pouch? That was years ago. Yeah, I bought it at a garage sale in San Francisco. I knew it was powerful stuff. But I never managed to get the drawstrings open..."

"Do you know where it is?" Asked Roxas, who now held all of John's library books in an awkward manner. "Also can we go inside your place for a moment? Would like to get these inside."

John soon opened the door to his apartment and ushered his two guests inside. As Roxas went to place the books onto the nearby counter, the Englishman finally answered their present inquiry. "This pouch of yours, mate, I haven't seen it for ages. But the odds are it's down in my storage locker with me stuff from… Paddinton?" He said in a slight questioning tone, as if trying to remember all of the places his keepsakes came from. "And from the Nottinghill place. And the East Croydon flat before that-"

"Let us retrieve it, then."

"I hope you don't expect me to go on public transport with you dressed like that." Said John, eying Morpheus' present attire. A blackened robe with the hem decorated with flames… or screaming heads… or something else depending on one's perspective. "It'll be dead embarrassing."

"I do have to agree with him on this one." Spoke the Keybearer to Morpheus. "Your cloak might draw some unwanted attention. No offense."

Morpheus merely rolled his starlight eyes. Grabbing his worn cloth, he swiftly took it off and shifted it into a trench coat identical to Constantine's, except for it being pitch black instead of beige.

"Is this better?"

John gave a brief hum when inspecting the Dream Lord's new article of clothing.

"It is." The Englishman then added in something else. "I ought to introduce you to the Big Green bloke, you'd like him. He hasn't got a sense of humor either."

Roxas tilted his head to the side as they exited John's apartment. "Big Green bloke?"

"Lives in a swamp over in Louisiana." Came John's response as he locked the door.

Even if it might've been an offhand remark, Roxas decided to mentally note this detail as something to possibly look into once he's done helping Morpheus out on his quest.

Reaching the street, John tried to wave a cab but some kept passing by the trio.

Remembering some occurrences he witnessed earlier today, Roxas fished out his Moogle wallet and retrieved some Munny which quickly shifted to the local currency. Once having a decent amount on hand, he loudly whistled as he waved the pound notes in the air.

The results were instant, having an incoming cab stopping near them.

John chuckled on the little display. They soon entered the cab with the magic practitioner giving the address on his storage locker as it took off.

-Later-

The trio composed of Roxas, Constantine and Morpheus were presently inside of the Englishman's storage locker.

It was a very large space with all sorts of things John collected over the years. One section had t-shirts, posters and even an electric guitar of his time being the lead singer to the punk rock band Mucous Membrane. Another area had a unique assortment of books, composed of normal reading material to those of the occult.

Next to that particular collection were the magical artifacts. A handful were innocent enough while others were quite dangerous in which John warned Roxas to not touch them or might suffer the consequences.

With the rough categorization out of the way, the entire storage locker was an utter mess.

It was somewhat organized, but it wasn't maintained all that well. To Roxas, it was as if John merely threw all sorts of things at any other place in here. So much junk was placed haphazardly all over from the filing cabinets, storage bins, etc. And the varying layers of dust didn't help show how Constantine maintained the space over the years.

"We have been looking for an hour, Constantine. Patience wears thin." Moaned the Dream Lord. "I do not believe it is here."

"Not to be rude or anything, boss, but you haven't been contributing in helping at all." Said John, who was going through another filing cabinet in his rented space. "All you've been doing is standing there and hardly moving an inch."

"John…"

"What? I'm just statin' the obvious."

Roxas merely sighed, momentarily breaking away from his activity of searching and looked over to Morpheus. He didn't seem all that offended with John's remark. He might've been, but hid it far better than one could ever pull off.

"How can you be so sure your pouch ain't here?" Roxas asked the Dream Lord.

"If it were here, I would be able to feel it."

This got the Keybearer to give him a dry look. "That would've been more helpful to know earlier."

"We've still got a load of stuff to go through yet, boss." John said reassuringly. "Keep smiling. It'll turn up."

'I don't believe Morpheus is capable of smiling.' Was the Keybearer's thought.

The Dream Lord might have, but after nearly a century of imprisonment, his mood was primarily sour in Roxas' opinion. Or it could've gotten worse in that time.

Obviously he wasn't going to ask that.

Moving onto another filing cabinet, John finally asked an inquiry that roamed through his mind since meeting the pair at his place.

"How'd he lose his pouch anyways, kid?"

"To sum it up, a cult leader named Roderick Burgess summoned him, imprisoned him and stole his stuff nearly a century ago." Was Roxas' answer to Constantine's inquiry.

"Talk about a coincidence." John muttered to himself, thinking back to his investigation earlier today. "He must be older than he looks."

"You have no idea." Commented the Nobody.

As John slammed the sliding drawer of the filing cabinet he was at, there was a little chain reaction.

In an instant, a large pile of his belongings fell from above and toppled on top of Constantine. He was practically buried alive as a result.

In a comedic fashion, his head seemed to pop out of the pile with a peeved look on his face.

Roxas couldn't help but chuckle at the Englishman's expense.

"Ha, ha. Laugh it up, kid." Grumbled the magic practitioner. "I don't know why I hang on to all this stuff." He soon pushed various objects off of him as he soon tried getting back onto his feet. "If there was a fire, it'd be like my whole life was going up in flames."

The Keybearer merely rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't have that much of a problem if -oh, I don't know- come here and clean up the place?

John was about to retort when he realized his hand was grasping onto an old photo.

It was in that instant a number of things suddenly clicked in his head.

"Oh… Jesus. Bloody Hell." Constantine soon turned to Morpheus. "Uh, boss. I think I know where your pouch is."

After this bit of declaration, the three were able to catch another cab which took them to their next destination.

During the cab ride, John was looking at the photo he found earlier in his storage locker. The one clue which he practically bet his life on to find the paleman's stolen pouch.

An old flame of his.

And John remembered her well.

She went by Rachel… Amazing Rachel… Junkie Rachel…

They were living together in a high-rise flat in East Croydon. Things were quite alright during their relationship. But things went sideways when he took a job and went to Alaska for six months, over the Lupus Affair.

He honestly kept trying to keep in touch with her during his time away, but she never bothered to respond back to his texts and phone calls.

When he finally got back, she was gone. Alone with his stereo, his telly, a number of collected magical artifacts lying around, any old junk she could convert to money. And she'd long since converted the money into junk.

Stupid bitch… yet John often misses her.

Now that he thought about it, Constantine should've realized back then she had stolen the pouch as well. Yet he never bothered to track her down and take back his stuff.

Big mistake on his part.

He should've seen the warning signs with how fascinated she was with the artifacts. More so with the pouch. Always playing with the damned thing. Kept asking him to try and open it.

She'd ask him time and time again: What's the point of having something magic if you don't use it?

John knew the answer. But he knew she'd never understand, even when he tried to warn her numerous times on not messing around with the stuff.

Stepping out of the cab, the three walked up the driveway as their mode of transportation took off into the night.

Gazing at the suburban home, Roxas voiced an inquiry. "Is this Rachel's place or…?"

"It's her fathers." Said the Englishman. "We'll ask him where she's living these days and go find her. No problems, eh?"

"Sounds reasonable enough. But are you sure he'll be reasonable, John?"

"Her pop's alright. Retired air pilot. Nice man." Constantine gazed over to Morpheus with a small, reassuring grin. "Well get your bag back."

"There is no need for any further misadventures. The pouch is here."

"Really? How do you know?"

"I know." Responded the Dream Lord as they neared the house. "The pouch is here. And more than the pouch." He then looked towards his two companions. "This house is dangerous."

Narrowing his eyes, John soon rang the doorbell. He waited a few seconds before repeating the action. After that, he knocked on the front door before just pounding on it.

"Okay… No answer at all." Said Constantine. "Someone should definitely be here… Of course the door is locked, bolted and alarmed." He ran his hand through his hair. "Alright, let's go round the back. We can smash a window and get in that way-"

"We go in by the front door." Said Morpheus, who then looked towards the blonde Nobody.

A nod of quick understanding was soon delivered to the Dream Lord. Summoning Oathkeeper into his grasp, which earned a surprised interest from Constantine, Roxas tapped it against the front door a few times.

In mere seconds, the door creaked open.

"Huh, neat trick." Commented the Englishman. "Not to mention the fancy sword you got there."

Roxas dismissed his Keyblade as the white wisps faded away into the night. "Thanks."

Upon stepping into the home, a peculiar smell suddenly hit the Englishman.

It smelt strange. Part of it reminded him of the month he worked for an undertaker; all flesh and formaldehyde. And it was weird: smells are a hotline to memory.

"The electricity's cut off." Said John as he was flicking the lightswitch on and off. Looking down, he saw something else with the moonlight seeping from outside. "And there's gotta be like half a year's worth of mail on the doormat."

Something was definitely up.

"Constantine." Began Morpheus. "This place is not safe for you. Things are free in this house that should not be loose on Earth. You must not stay here."

"Naw. I'll stick around. I can handle myself, you should know. Not to mention I'm intrigued. Though I do wonder why you're giving me the warning instead of him." John finished off by jabbing a thumb towards the Keybearer.

Said person gave a response. "I have a peculiar set of skills…"

"Are you quoting Taken on me, kid?"

The younger blond stared up at the older blond. "What's Taken?"

Constantine merely gave Roxas an odd look, thinking the kid either didn't see a lot of movies growing up or something else was up with him. But given his particular present companion he was with, John's bet was on the latter.

"Anyway, I was fond of Rachel once." Said John. "She was, you know, the girl of my dreams for a while."

"I don't get it."

John drew out a groan upon hearing Roxas' response. "Okay, you oughta crack open an urban dictionary or something in the near future."

"Which is her room?" Said Morpheus, wanting to get back to the matter at hand.

"Hell if I know. They must've remodeled since I've been here last."

Walking up the flight of stairs, Roxas came across a nearby door and grabbed the handle. "Let's try this door."

Opening it up, they made their way into a dark room. With what little light came in from outside, it appeared to be a guest bedroom.

"Watch out for the human."

"What do you mean, watch out for-"

Both John and Roxas soon made contact with something lying on the ground. While John's foot merely grazed it, Roxas unfortunately tripped over it.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah I'm good."

John withdrew a zippo lighter from his coat, flicking a flame soon after. He used the light to help locate Roxas and pull him up onto his feet. As he did, both blondes saw what they made contact with.

Lying on the ground was a man with glazed eyes, an open mouth and a head wound. There were some wet stains on his person with a slow rising smell coming off his form due to him soiling himself who knows how long ago.

"Whoa! What happened to him?" Exclaimed Roxas out of disturbed surprise.

Morpheus gazed at the man lying on the ground and quickly deduced what occurred. "His mind was overwhelmed and eaten by dreams."

"But is he-?" John began.

"Dead? Yes."

Constantine ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus…"

Seeing that both of his blond companions were having some difficulty in the dark, Morpheus soon spoke. "I believe you both would need light, yes?"

The Dream Lord raised his hand and conjured a globe of light. For a moment it was able to greatly light up the guest room.

"Better?"

"Definitely." Said the Englishman, flipping the lid back onto his lighter.

"I could've done that if you asked."

"Perhaps later, Roxas."

Exiting the guest room with the unknown corpse behind them, the three made it back to the upstairs hallway in order to resume their search just as Mopheus' conjured light went out.

John's been out of his depth before. And something tells him there are sharks in these depths.

He ought to be running away and coming up with a better plan, but… Rachel…

Moving further into the darkened passageway, John started to notice the walls seem to somewhat take on a different, unusual color for home decorating; like dark red.

A stray thought pertaining to horror movies crossed Constantine's mind as they traversed. Old dark house. Horrible menace on the loose. 'Lets split up'. Muffled screams in the darkness…

Most of them gimmick tropes don't seem legitimate in the real world at times, but at this present instance John wanted to be very precautious.

"Uh… We'll stick together, won't we?" Asked Constantine.

It was Roxas who responded. "Better safe than sorry."

Morpheus gave a brief, agreeing nod as they came to another door.

Once the Dream Lord opened it, Constantine was the first to go inside. Unthinking and out of habit, he reached for the lightswitch.

"Yech! Christ. There's something on the walls. Something wet-"

It happened in a split second. One moment he was trying to register what he felt on the lightswitch. When he blinked, he was somewhere else-

"John? Are you with us, John?"

Shifting his head around, Constantine saw himself seated within a sharing circle. And looking at himself, he appeared to be wearing white hospital scrubs with matching slip on shoes.

"I… what?"

Why did this place feel so familiar?

"Lost in your memories again, John?"

Turning over, Constantine looked towards the speaker who wore a casual dress suit with a clipboard. In that instant did he recognize the man.

'Why is Dr. Roger Huntoon here?' Thought John. 'As far as I remember, this bastard bloke is presently working at Arkham Asylum of all places.'

Constantine never was inside of that nut house turned into a pseudo-prison in the states. Then how was he seated in front of Huntoon after so long.

"Wait… am I in Ravenscar?" Muttered John.

"Of course you are, Mr. Constantine. You've been a patient here for over a decade now."

"No, that's not right. I've only been here for only a couple of years."

In terms of years, the Englishman knew he'd only been in and out of the asylum for the duration of said time; not of their entirety. Only due to him relapsing from the trauma he experienced which led him committed here in the first place.

"Seems your traumatic experience has finally made you delusional towards reality." Huntoon exhaled a tired sigh. "And here I thought you were making progress. Your friends and family were so happy to hear of it."

No, that wasn't right. He didn't have much of a family left alive.

His bastard father was killed by a serial killer who went by the moniker, The Family Man. His mother died bringing him into the world. Cheryl, his beloved sister and rock in this world, was slain by Tony -her husband- who was possessed by a demon in order to enact some revenge against him. And said brother-in-law committed suicide shortly afterwards due to him no longer taking the trauma anymore.

Did he have any extended family left in the world? An aunt or uncle? There was an itch at the back of his mind he had… a niece? A niece who idolized him? A niece who he loved and cherished deeply?

And friends? He… did he have any friends? He recalls Chas, who was his bandmate and best friend since childhood. He knew he burned a lot of bridges, ruining relationships left and right; both for friendship and romance. Yet his mind was becoming foggy on the others who stayed with him, despite everything.

What was happening to him? Why did his memories seem to be drowning?

It had to be whatever was happening here. It was scaring him deeply.

He had to get out of this room. Get out of Ravenscar.

Before he knew it, John bolted out of his seat and booked it.

"I need help here!"

Upon Dr. Hundoom's call, the orderlies rushed into the room. One of them tackled John to the ground as they tried to restrain him. Others were hovering for support while the last of them pulled out a needle filled with anesthetic.

"Let me go!" John struggled out.

"It's for your own good, Mr. Constantine."

The magical practitioner fought hard with all his might, but couldn't budge all that well. He focused on his inner power to free himself, but to his shocked fear, he didn't feel a damn thing.

The needle drew closer to him as the orderly seemed to be smiling in an unnatural way.

Before the anesthetic needle would pierce his arm, it was knocked away alongside the one holding it.

It wasn't just the one orderly, but all of them holding John down. Given the factor they were surprisingly knocked away in a single motion.

"Get away from him!"

Focusing on his vision, he saw someone familiar to him. Not of a "long time" sense, but someone he had met earlier that day. And this person was standing beside his fallen form.

"Kid?"

The Keybearer hauled John onto his feet.

"C'mon, we gotta get outta here." He said in clear alarm

Constantine didn't have to be told twice as he and Roxas booked it.

With several swings of his Keyblades, the blonde Nobody bashed away any opposing force coming after them. It wasn't just the asylum's orderlies, but the patients as well.

"Stop them!" Exclaimed Dr. Hundoom as his voice became distorted. "DoN'T lET tHeMeSCapE!"

The manifestation of Ravenscar's psychologist spoke too late as the two blondes reached the exit. Some "beings" were close in reaching them, but a magical blast sent them all away.

Making it out of the session room, the space suddenly flashed around them.

No longer were they at Ravenscar, but somewhere else Constantine hated the most above all else.

"No… Not this…"

The Casanova Club over at Newcastle.

Roxas was clearly startled with the new environment they were in. He became uneasy at the sight around them.

"W-what happened here?" He stuttered out.

Debris littered the concert hall alongside a litany of corpses. Each one was desecrated and dismembered in every way humanly and unnaturally possible.

It was perhaps something from an utter nightmare.

Roxas soon composed himself when he started seeing wisps of darkness twirling around and seeping into the corpses. Before long, they rose in animation.

"You should've known, Constantine." Rasped out a disembowed woman.

"You should've been smarter." Spoke a man with his head and spine torn out.

"You arrogant bastard!" Spoke two halves of a body split down the middle. "We died because of your hubris!"

John began to hyperventilate as so many voices rose and roared in the concert hall. He was sweating bullets as he didn't know what to do with the bodies coming towards them.

"Get it together, John!" Called out Roxas as he casted Aeroga to send them all away. "I don't know if I can hold them off on my own."

Constantine watched on in bits of envy as Roxas began cleaving and blasting the corpses away. He couldn't muster out a smidgen worth of magic-

"John!" Roxas yelled out, holding his Keyblades up to hold back a string of bodies colliding against him. "I could really use your help right about now!'

Gritting his teeth, John reared back his fist and started punching corpse after corpse.

Despite not having access to his magic, he wasn't going to be defenseless by not delivering physical violence.

Punch here, elbow strike there, kicking a severed head to some body elsewhere. John was giving everything he got to fight back against this utter nightmare of his own making.

"There's no end to these buggers." John said, grabbing hold of a head and twisting it off.

"Keep fighting a little longer!" Roxas shouted, going into a spinning slice to get himself some breathing room.

"What do you mean by-"

The floor below them erupted upwards, sending a large amount of foes away. As the smoke eventually cleared, it revealed someone new.

Someone who clearly left his mark on John Constantine.

The entity was big, like about a dozen feet long, from head to tail spear tip. It's lower half was a serpentine body with the upper portion being a muscular humanoid. Large and angular, leathery wings jetted out of it's back. It was violet-blue in skin tone, but with the sinister red light within the space made it appear darker. Boney horns came out of each side of his lower jaw with a matching pair from the top of it's head, its hips and arms. And it sinisterly smiled with piercing red eyes boring into their very beings.

"You can't escape from this, John Constantine."

"Ok… that's sorta disturbing to look at." Roxas remarked.

John stepped back in shocked surprise as he spoke out the demon's name. "Nergal…"

"I'm going to enjoy tormenting you once you're in Hell, just like sweet little Astra."

"Y-You won't, you fuckin' bastard!" John tried to say defiantly.

His fears and trauma were getting the better of him. He was far better than this.

Yet this felt far more different than any nightmare he experienced before. It was as if he was truly reliving it.

"How do we beat this guy, John?" Roxas asked, grasping his Keyblades tightly.

"You can't."

"Not with that attitude."

Constantine couldn't contain the snort that escaped his lips. Felt like something he would say to be perfectly honest if it were any other situation.

"If you need a weapon," Roxas held out Oblivion for him, "you can borrow mine."

John blinked at the offered weapon before grinning at the teen and grasped at the handle and held it up, ready to fight. "Thanks, mate."

Roxas didn't know how long his Keyblade would come back to him on it's own, but hopefully it won't be until he commands it; just like how Sora occasionally does it.

Without a second's hesitation, the two blondes resumed the fight once again as they started swiping their bladed weapons left and right. Roars echoed through the concert hall with blasts going all around, courtesy of the Nobody.

As the Englishman was swinging his borrowed Keyblade, Roxas moved around the reanimated corpses and focused on the present demon.

Casting Thundaga, lightning crashed down from the ceiling and electrocuted the Keybearer's opponent. While it trembled from the spell, the demon was knocked back from a volley of Firagas. Roxas jumped into the air with a swinging slash to the face of the large face of Nergal who recoiled back with a hiss of pain.

"You worthless pile of dog shit!"

"That's a new one." Roxas muttered to himself.

"Demons have a colorful vocabulary." Constantine remarked, running forward and jabbing Oblivion into the serpentine body of their foe.

Nergal screeched in pain, whipping his tail at the Englishmen who deftly dived to the ground to avoid getting hit.

He jumped up in time to swat away and deflect several attempts at literally impaling him.

"Bloody Bastard!"

Focusing so much hate towards the demon which made his life a horrid nightmare, John didn't realize Oblivion was starting to glow. The light it emitted unlocked something inside the Englishman, which formed an ethereal yellow glow around his body. Something clearly familiar to him.

Before he realized it, John channeled and fired out a magical blast from Oblivion's tip.

The power behind it shot past Nergal rather briefly, but it clipped off the demon's wing and a good meaty chunk of it's arm.

Seeing this, John barked out a laugh.

"Finally I got it!"

"Were you just having performance issues, John?" Roxas asked cheekily.

The Englishman briefly glared at the younger blonde. "Oh sod off. Don't ruin the moment."

The pair soon resumed the fight.

Each gave it their all as it seemed to never end.

After what felt like eternity, haunting screams of a young girl soon filled the air as everything in their surroundings became distorted.

"CONSTANTIIIIINE!"

Mere moments after John heard Morpheus call his name, reality set back in from the Casanova Club to the suburban home of Rachel's father.

The Englishman gasped for air as if he just woke up from something terrible. He felt as if he ran a marathon without stopping.

"You okay there, John?" Roxas asked out of concern, who was rather winded himself.

"Bloody hell, i-it felt so real." Rasped out Constantine.

"You're here, Constantine. With Roxas and I." Said Morpheus in a calm reassuring tone.

John swallowed a lump in his throat as his heartbeat was finally coming down to a normal pace. "A dream. It was only a dream."

"It is never 'only a dream', John Constantine. Here less than some other places."

"Time for some more light in here." Said Roxas, summoning his Oathkeeper Keyblade. Pouring magic into it, the Nobody conjured a bright light to emanate off it's surface.

It was only then did the two blondes recoil on their present surroundings.

"Jeeesus!" Swore Constantine as he soon inspected the walls, as if it were spray painted on with slimy, putrid flesh. Hints of organs, hair, blood vessels and other substances could be seen. "What is this stuff?"

"A human body." Said Morpheus, greatly disturbing his present companions. "What's left of it. The woman's father, I surmise."

A sweat broke out and rolled down Roxas' face. "But it's… is he still alive?"

"Yes, he is very much alive."

The two blondes felt sick to their stomach. While Roxas was glad he ate rather light earlier, John was cursing himself. The Englishman began feeling the lunch he had back at Ed's Diner earlier trying to climb up his throat for air.

"H-How is this possible?"

"The pouch, Constantine."

From the pulsating fleshy hallway, the substance seemed to shift and churn. Arms and faces seemed to push out of the surface. They were snarling and grew more wrathful as they were traversing further.

"LeavE hERe. leaVE her. Leave tHe woMan. SHe IS oURs. Do nOT disTuRB."

"The hell are they?"

"Dreams, John." Said Roxas, firmly gripping the Keyblade's handle. "Rogue ones to be exact. But I gotta ask, who are they referring to?"

John was quick to realize the answer.

"Rachel!" He said, looking towards the door at the far end of the hall. "She's through there."

"Do noT dIsTUrb Us. dO NoT DiStuRb hEr. ALwAyS froM hUnGRy." WE aRe hUngrY."

John snarled, coming face to face to one of the abnormal rogue dreams.

"I don't care who or what you are! We want to see Rachel!"

"FoOliSH. foOLish. VEry FooliSh. HEar it poSTure? heAr it thrEatEn? FoOliSH meAt ThiNgs."

"Let us through."

Morpheus' firm tone could be greatly heard, which quickly drew in the attention of these things.

"Who sAid? wHO sPOke?"

"That would be him." Said Roxas, jabbing a thumb to the Lord of Dreams. "The one you all serve. The one… who gave you existence."

If it were possible, the distorted faces quickly bore expressions of shock and disbelief.

"...No. nOT him. Never HIM. hE's GOne. aLL goNe. lOng goNE."

Seeing as the rogue dreams and nightmares were not fully believing his young companion, Morpheus spoke once more as he flared his power.

"This has gone far enough. You have exceeded your bounds."

The rogue dream creations became more worried now as they were in the presence of their lord creator.

"MAstER? maSTer. SOrrY. soRRy. SoRrY. do NOt chAStiSe. DesTRoY. soRRy. We thOUgHt yOu LOnG goNe. Yes. yES. MAstER."

"Well he's back now." Called out the Keybearer. "And it's high time for you all to go back where you belong!"

"I most certainly agree."

Raising a hand, power appeared within Morpheus' grasp. An abnormal cosmic light soon appeared, making the rogue creations shriek in terror. It quickly built up before it exploded. The starlit light encompassed the hallway as the rogue dreams and nightmares disappeared from the walls.

Seeing the abnormality recede back into the fleshy walls and somewhat return to "normal", John began realizing the truth of the matter.

"You are really their master, aren't you? You're Moprheus… Dream of the Endless."

"Correct."

"Then how… why…?"

"They rebelled and sought to become their own masters, in a fashion. And as you can see, they would've caused untold damage in doing so."

This ended up confusing John a bit more.

"This ain't the first time we had to deal with rogue Nightmare and Dream spirits." Revealed Roxas as they came to the door at the end of the hallway. "Actually met Morpheus here through one such occurrence."

"Interesting." Muttered John, no doubt becoming curious on how that came to pass.

After his investigation was done earlier and the interactions he'd had with these two today, he might have drawn up a small timeline of events. But only they can fully clear up the finer details unless the Englishman did things his own way.

Of course his present thoughts were then replaced with another.

The smells which now escaped into the hallway once opening the door assaulted his nose. John didn't want to think about the newfound smell. He obviously tried to recollect onto other smells.

Pear drops. Ketones. Sewers. Morgues. Garbage. Hell… anything else other than this.

"H-Hello…?"

The weak voice barely heard snapped John out of his self distracting thoughts. He recognized that voice.

"Rachel?" Asked John.

"John… Is… Is that you?"

Alive… She's alive.

Walking into the far end of the dark room, the glow from Roxas' Keyblade shined and brightened the space to reveal a bedroom; Rachel's bedroom to be exact.

"Oh~ I've had… such a wonderful dream, John."

Moving towards the far end of the bedroom, the trio found the person they were looking for.

Rachel lied in her bed, naked as the day she was born. But instead of the beauty John once knew, there was someone else.

Her nipples are hard and dark and shrunken on breasts like empty pouches. Her hair comes out in clumps when she moves. Her skin was flaking, infected and inflamed. Bedsores cover her back and legs, the reason why she tried not to move too much. Her fingernails grew long and brittle; then they broke off with the simplest of scratches, which littered most of her flesh. Her stomach shrank, then bloated and shrank once more showing she was starving herself on her latest fix which was from the pouch of endless dream sand.

Rachel was practically at Death's doorstep in her present state.

"Sweet Jesus." John swore softly.

Roxas stood beside Constantine as both blondes were in their own states of shock. Whereas John's was more controlled from the many years in his particular experience, Roxas was outright disturbed.

Morpheus walked past them and reached to the nightstand beside Rachel's bed. There, the Dream Lord picked up his leather pouch of endless sand by the drawstrings.

"We can go now." Said Morpheus. "I have the pouch. The dreams will return to their proper location, in time."

Before Morpheus could walk away, Rachel weakly reached out and tried grasping after the leather pouch in a desperate manner.

"Th-The bag… My bag." She said in a rasp tone. "But it's not… my bag." Rachel's voice carried more pain now as her body started to softly shake. "I-It… It hurts… I need… the bag."

John quickly walked over to Rachel's side, seeing more of her state of being. He then looked towards Morpheus with a firm, yet pleading look. "You can't leave her like this."

"Hmm? Why not? Her metabolism is obviously destroyed. The sand was the only thing keeping her alive. She will die soon. Painfully, I would imagine."

"I… I just wanted… the dreaming…" Was all Rachel could rasp out from the pain.

This didn't sit well with John, making him snap at the chalk-white being. "I said you can't bloody leave her like this!"

Rachel's choking sounds could soon be heard as she was desperately trying to cling onto what bit of life she had left now.

From his spot in the room, Roxas honestly wondered if he could try and do something. Perhaps casting Cure on her or using a Potion. Yet he didn't know if either of them would be enough to save this woman. Let alone if he could perhaps prolong her inevitable end.

Before the Keybearer could ask and possibly voice some suggestion and input, Morpheus spoke.

"Very well, Constantine. Go outside." The Lord of Dreams gazed towards Roxas. "You too, Roxas."

"But-"

Roxas felt a soft, yet firm hand on his shoulder. Looking to the source, he saw John bore a tired and defeated expression.

"We should go." Said the Englishman.

The greater Nobody didn't know as he was confused, but he reluctantly complied with the request.

When the Keybearer left before John, he heard the older blonde say one last thing to Rachel. "I'm sorry. I should've done better with you. Sweet dreams, love."

As the two blondes made their way out of the house, Morpheus opened his leather pouch. The tall, dark being reached into it and retrieved the fine powder. Once pulled out, the Dream Lord casted his hand's contents onto the dying woman, who stopped writhing in mere moments.

When the dream sand was sprinkled on her, Rachel felt no pain at all. Instead, she felt her flesh and muscles flow back onto her bones once more. Her disfigurement from mistreating the endless sand onto herself ever since she stole it from the love of her life seemed to no longer be there.

For she now resembled the woman she used to be before her depression took hold of her. Before she started taking substances to escape reality. Before she took the sand.

But now… now as she sleeps, Rachel knows he's waiting for her.

For in her dreams, John Constantine was awaiting for her with the smile she loved so much.

"John!"

"Hullo, love." Greeted the John of her dreams. "It's been a long time."

Rachel laughed as she embraced him. "Did you miss me, then?"

Dream John adopted a playful, thoughtful look for a few moments. "Nah."

"Bastard." She said playfully, smacking him on the shoulder. The man of her dreams laughed in turn as they walked hand in hand across the dream fields. "Love you."

"I know."

Even if the man of her dreams didn't outright say it, she knew what he meant to say.

For her, it's the best of all possible dreams she could ever experience.

Especially when Death came for her… in a fashion.

Seeing Rachel no longer alive, Morpheus did her a courtesy by draping her bed sheet over her. After dying as she slept, she will become a new resident of the Dreaming. And whatever will occur next for her will be sorted out once he restores his realm.

Walking out of the bedroom, he saw the fleshy walls of the hallway slowly revert themselves. In due time, they'll return into the form of Rachel's father.

Reaching the front door to this residence, the Lord of Dreams heard the two blondes converse with each other.

"-And how is it that you got roped into helping him?"

"A peculiar set of circumstances, John." Roxas surmised. "Outside of that, it was something I thought would be right to do."

Their conversation came to an end when Morpheus closed the door behind him.

John was the first to speak. "Well…?"

"She's dead."

"Did she-"

"She died peacefully. She died… happy."

John held his head low, exhaling a very tired sigh. "Yeah. Great… Thanks."

Roxas was silent for a few moments, soon looking towards the Englishman with a saddened look. "I'm sorry, John."

"It's… alright, kid. I've sadly grown used to it. Misfortune and all that." Constantine turned his attention a bit more towards Morpheus now. "You've got your sodding sandbag back, then. Time for me to head back to my place. Got some work to do in the morning." The Englishman started to walk away a little from the pair before turning back to them. "I'll see you two later, I suppose."

"Goodbye, John Constantine."

"Goodbye, John. Hope things go well for ya."

"Same with you, kid." Said the Englishman. "And thanks back there, with that living nightmare we fought in."

Roxas gave the taller blonde a small smile as he accepted it. Opening a Dark Corridor, the greater Nobody saw a small look of intrigue from Constantine.

Morpheus was about to step through when the Englishman spoke up in a rushed manner.

"Hey! H-Hang on! Wa-Wait a minute!... Please?"

The Keybearer was quite confused on why John stopped them all of a sudden. Morpheus, meanwhile, turned back to Constantine with a look of inquiry.

"Yes?"

John became quite awkward and seemed embarrassed as he tried speaking.

"Well, I… I don't like to ask for favors. If they don't owe me something… I mean, I… I don't want to be in anyone's debt. It's just-"

"What are you asking, John Constantine?"

Composing himself, John spoke in a tone which sounded… desperate and hopeful.

"It's just… ever since Newcastle… the last ten years. Ever since N-Newcastle I've been having these nightmares…" John swallowed a painful lump in his throat as he explained a tad more. "Bad ones. Most nights and… I wondered if you could…?"

Roxas remembered the experience both he and John went through when those rogue dreams tried keeping them at bay. The way John reacted on how all too real and painful they were when they sought escaping by fighting through them all.

Was all that perhaps what John was more or less going through?

Looking at Morpheus, Roxas wondered if he would comply with the given request.

"I understand." Morpheus finally said. "Very well." Closing his starlit eyes, Morpheus deeply focused and did his work. After what seemed like forever, the Lord of Dreams opened his eyelids and looked at the Englishman. "It is done. The nightmares will not disturb you, John Constantine."

John gave a disbelieving look towards the entity of Dreams "Really?"

"But there may still be bad dreams in your future, but that will be up to you."

A massive sense of relief washed over John. A chuckle even escaped his lips in the process.

"Thanks, Morpheus."

Morpheus gave John a small nod as he entered through the Dark Corridor.

Roxas was happy for John and gave the man a smile. Yet as he was about to enter his conjured Corridor, the Englishman spoke.

"So… don't mind me asking this, but where are you two off to now?"

"We're going to Hell, John." He said with a plain tone and shrug.

Once Roxas stepped through the Corridor, the dark flames disbursed with the wisps lingering in the air for the briefest of moments.

Constantine stood there for a few moments before releasing a mirthful chuckle.

"...Aren't we all, kid. Aren't we all…"

Letting loose a bitter chuckle from his lips, John walked down the pavement so he may find his own way back to London. As he did, a song escaped his lips with a saddened tone being carried out.

"Mister Sandman, bring me a dream…

Make her the cutest that I've ever seen…

Give her the word that I'm not a rover…

Then tell me that my lonesome life is over…"

-End Chapter-

AN:

Another one bites the dust and glad to see this went well.

Don't know what else to really talk about, aside from the fact that we got to see Constantine, one of my favorite DC characters.

FMW: Jeb and I have been on roll with our updates of our stories even with how crazy our lives are. Hope this doesn't burn us out too badly like it did last year but feeling a lot more confident at this time in our lives cause feels like we've synchronized ideas and being able to get large swaths of writing done.

Jeb: And I know many of you want me to get back onto ASoFIaH, and I will. I just wanted to get this out of the way. Will be working on that next.

Anyways, be sure to review this story guys! Would like the criticisms. Please and thank you!

R&R