AN: This is a SLASH story, I say again, so do NOT read it unless you’re into slash. Btw, it’s a bit sad in the beginning, but don’t worry! It won’t stay that way. Enjoy.

The Dream Catcher

Bloo went down a flight of stairs leading to yet another dark and dusty room in the endless basement of Foster’s. Bloo flicked on his flashlight and let the beam move about, highlighting a bunch of odd shaped objects concealed by white sheets.

“Mac, I found another cool room!” yelled Bloo back up the stairs. A few seconds passed and Bloo got the feeling that Mac had found something else to catch his interest.

A thought that Bloo had been avoiding came back into his mind, and he wondered once again about his relationship with the boy. Mac was now fifteen, and his interests had begun to change. He had more friends, human friends, that is, and he was seeing them more and more. His days coming to Foster’s were still numerable, but Bloo had noticed that Mac was now routinely unavailable every Friday and Sunday. Bloo had pestered Mac to no end about his whereabouts, but was always answered the same way, ‘I’m just hanging out with the guys.’ One thing Bloo had discovered on his own was that these ‘guys’ were really just one guy, a muscular, tall fellow with yellowish, greasy hair. He had spotted the boy walking with Mac in the park only once, from afar. The offending boy aggravated Bloo’s thoughts to no end, but he couldn’t understand why he felt so strongly about it. Mac spent lots of time with him, but there was now a small amount of distance between them that Bloo knew was due to the greasy haired boy.

Whatever that boy had, Mac liked it.

Bloo shrugged it off and continued to go down, looking around at a row of dusty books, haphazardly propped against a wall. There was a large amount of Imaginary Friends history books and one in particular that caught Bloo’s eye was conveniently out of reach. He began to climb the books, reaching far towards the top. There was a sudden cracking sound. Bloo swung the flashlight around and noticed the wall behind the books was beginning to split around the edges. A deep moan came from the wall and it began to fall forward. Bloo shrieked, holding onto the books as the wall tumbled down, leaving him on a pile of books and a cloud of dust. His eyes widened as he stared ahead at a second room concealed by the wall.

He struggled forward, finding a small, empty area that looked more like a cave than a room. Bloo moved inside and nearly tripped on something lying on the floor, a dirt-crusted book with a leather strap tied around it. Bloo brushed away the grime and looked at the cover, which at first seemed like illegible nonsense. Bloo focused harder and somehow he could read the symbols. It read, ‘Dream Catcher’. Bloo undid the leather strap and noticed with a shiver as a sound echoed around the cave, a mixture of a laugh and the hiss of a cicada.

“Freaking creepy,” he muttered to himself.

Under the strap was smaller text, ‘Aid for the Imaginary Friend’.

“Bloo? You down here?” called Mac from the top of the stairs, “I gotta go home, it’s getting late… Hey, you really made a mess down there. Bloo, are you listening?”

Bloo’s attention left the book immediately and he ran up the stairs to his friend.

“What did you find?” asked Bloo as he followed Mac up another flight of old stairs.

“Just some gardening tools and a bunch of broken furniture. You?”

“I found books,” said Bloo with sarcastic enthusiasm, “I even knocked down a wall and what did I find? Not treasure, but one old book written in chicken scratch.”

Mac shrugged and smiled. “There’s a whole second wing to the basement that I found, so we’ll have to check it out on Saturday. It looks wicked awesome and really big.”

They reached the main level, which was lit normally, and started towards the front entrance.

Bloo thought nervously. It was Thursday which meant Mac would be gone Friday, gone with…that boy. He thought about asking Mac what he was actually doing tomorrow, maybe even asking about the other boy.

“Mac, what’s with that friend of yours? Why can’t I meet him?”

Mac turned to look at Bloo, his expression odd and unreadable. “I uh… which friend?”

Bloo frowned. “The one you hang out with twice a week like clock work. What’s so special about him?”

“N-nothing. He’s just one of the guys! I guess you could meet him, but he’s nothing special. You’d probably be bored with him.”

Bloo wasn’t satisfied. “If I’d be bored, why aren’t you? Does he have some kind of cool game or something? Or is it something… terrible?”

Mac stopped walking, looking extremely nervous. “T-terrible?”

“Yeah,” said Bloo, “Like are you two snuffing drugs or something? You’re not turning into a crack head, are you, Mac? I don’t want to have to visit you in the half way house or nothing!”

Mac laughed. “No, Bloo, don’t worry. We’re just hanging out, and you’re still my best friend by far.”

By then they had reached the door. Mac wrapped a scarf around his neck and they said their goodbyes. Bloo closed the door and pondered. He was determined to find out about this boy. Tomorrow he would go to the park and do the only thing he could do in this situation, spy!

Ba dum, ba dum… zzZzzZzz

Early the next morning, Bloo had gotten up and gone straight to the park. No one was there and it was biting cold with a few inches of white fluff covering the area, but still Bloo was determined not to miss them. He found a place not noticeable and sat, opening a breakfast he had packed himself. Time went by at an impossibly slow pace, and for a while Bloo regretted coming so early. He began to drift in thought, and wondered if he should have brought that weird book along to read while he waited.

‘Dream Catcher?’

He stood up, considering fetching the book and returning. There was no way Mac would be here so early, but suddenly he was proven wrong.

Bloo hunched down behind a bench and stared at Mac as he walked with the blonde boy. The boy was a deal larger than Mac, and at least a head taller. They walked silently, looking not happy or sad. Bloo wondered what enjoyment Mac could be getting out of such a dull walk. It didn’t seem like they even noticed each other. Bloo darted from his place behind the bench to another hiding place, following behind them through the park. They reached an empty road between the park and a cemetery, and soon Mac and the other boy crossed over. Bloo followed them as they moved deeper into the cemetery. The blonde looked around as if to be sure no one was watching before slipping into a small mausoleum with Mac. Bloo stayed behind the grave stone for a while, wondering what to do. He crept towards the building, moving around it until he found a window. He stretched as far as he could and looked through the glass. His pulse quickened and he gripped the frigid stone wall.

He had Mac lying on a marble coffin, his body hunched over the smaller boy. His hands wrestled Mac’s coat open, wandering down and slipping under his shirt. His lips and teeth grazed over Mac’s neck, his greasy hair falling over Mac’s face. Mac bit his lip and turned his head to the side, only to have the blonde boy grab his jaw and jerk him forward, roughly forcing a kiss.

And Mac let him.

The boy pulled up Mac’s shirt and began to bite his collar bone, Mac letting his head fall to the side again, this time facing the window. Bloo was too stunned for caution, and suddenly their eyes locked. Mac jumped up, and Bloo stepped away from the window. In a second Mac had emerged from the mausoleum, his hands holding his coat closed with the blonde not far behind.

Everything seemed clear to Bloo, like the last six months of his life were clicking into place to reveal an ugly, maddening picture. Bloo couldn’t be what Mac needed. It was that ‘need’ which separated them, it was ‘that’ which the blonde boy had that Bloo did not. Bloo could never be more than a friend to Mac because they were not the same. Bloo suddenly felt like a toy that a child had grown too old for, useless and destined for nowhere but the highest shelf.

But since when had Bloo ever thought of Mac that way? Never. But he did feel for Mac… He had just never given it thought. He sure as hell was thinking differently now.

“It’s not what it looks like, Bloo,” said Mac as he walked towards Bloo.

Bloo stepped back a few feet, rage glinting in his eyes.

“Don’t come near me, you! I can’t believe it! How could it not be what it looks like? You two love each other...” Bloo’s voice cracked at the last to words; he felt a swell of tears in his eyes as he began to walk away.

“Bloo wait, let me explain!” begged Mac.

“No! Just stay away from me! Don’t you dare follow me home.”

Bloo sped up, across the road, through the empty park and back to Foster’s. He couldn’t think of where to go. Eduardo and the others would just be getting up in their room, so he couldn’t go there, and everywhere else seemed to be full of the early risers. Bloo jetted down hall after hall, pausing as he heard the mocking, cicada-like hiss. He turned and noticed the door to the basement.

‘Dream Catcher,’ whispered a voice in Bloo’s mind. He went down the stairs, stumbling through the darkness and down to the stone room. His flashlight was sitting beside the book where he had left it. He flicked it on and opened the book to the first page.

‘This book is an aid to the Imaginary Friend. If assistance is needed, simply say so.’

Bloo flipped to the next page, which was blank. He flipped to the next and then sped through the whole book, finding no more text.

He growled in frustration. “What the heck am I doing down here like an idiot?” he said to himself as he wiped his wet eyes. He looked back at the text and read it over again.

‘…If assistance is needed, simply say so.’

“Guh, what the heck,” he said, “I need help.”

Nothing happened, as Bloo expected, until someone tapped him from behind. He jumped and spun around. At first he thought it was an imaginary friend, but looking closer he shuddered. It was… too ugly.

It resembled a massive preying mantis draped in dingy, loose white fabric. It had the bald head of a human although the wrinkly face was incredibly long, its eyes simple black orbs. All of its ten legs had hands. It smiled a toothy grin and lunged forward. Bloo cried out in fear, but paused as he realized he was being embraced.

“Oh, little friend, my old eyes haven’t seen one of you in so many hundred years. Ah, what a youthful face you have. Why this crying?”

“I uh..”

“Oh sorry, how rude of me not to introduce myself. I am the first Imaginary Friend, created by Merlin in the age of Arthur and the Round table. On his death bed he set me into a book so I could help future Imaginary Friends at my will. Only Imaginary Friends can read the book, and only they can hear and see me. No humans.”

Bloo stared incredulously. “I-I h-hope humans can’t s-smell you because you s-stink.”

The creature laughed warmly and patted Bloo on the head. It sat itself down and propped it’s head on an elbow.

“So little blue thing, tell me your problems.”

“It’s Bloo.. and I don’t think you could help me.”

“Little Bloo, please tell me your problems,” it repeated kindly.

So Bloo did, and began to get himself worked up into another fit of sobs.

“I can’t believe I never realized how much Mac really means to me! But we can’t be together. He loves that other guy and even if he didn’t, how could he love me? How could he even like me like that? I’m just a blue blob! Imaginary Friends aren’t meant to grow up with their creators, much less be in love. What’s the point then? And another thing. What do I call you?”

“Call me Dream Catcher.”

“That’s a stupid name!”

The Dream Catcher shrugged. “Merlin chose it, not me. Now about your friend loving this boy, I’m not sure how credible your conclusion is based upon that single scene. I believe it’d be best if you talked to Mac before concluding. To your other questions… your view on imaginary friends is a bit distorted by today’s standards. When imaginary friends first became popular, the rules were much freer. People of all ages created them, and not just to be friends. As futile countries battled, war lords would make armies of great beasts for the mere purpose of disposing of them on the battle field. They were used as labourers, slaves and even as concubines. Merlin was gone by this time, so I took the liberty to create some new rules. I limited the use of imaginary friends to the innocence of children. So yes, imaginary friends are somewhat unnecessary after childhood, but they’re also completely capable of fending for themselves. This current system of fostering imaginary friends is simply silly. As I see it, you’re capable of whatever you wish, even attending school.”

Bloo understood, but was still discontented. “But I can’t be with Mac like this. He didn’t make me right.”

“If course he didn’t,” laughed the Dream Catcher, “He was three years old.”

“So what do I do?”

The Dream Catcher frowned. “My little Bloo, I have the power to grant each imaginary friend one wish. Don’t think I’m required to do it, but yes, along with simple aid, I can grant you one large wish if you so desire. What do you think you’d like? Now remember this can’t interfere with the humans. It has to be about you.”

Bloo knew what he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“Dream Catcher, can you make me so that Mac would like me?”

The Dream Catcher closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and smiled. “Little Bloo, Mac does like you.”

Bloo frowned. “No, I want him to really like me.”

The Dream Catcher grinned. “I think I understand what you’re asking for, which I can tell you isn’t necessary although it sure would make things entertaining.”

Bloo nodded. “If you know what I want, then make it happen.”

TBC

AN: If you liked it, please tell me so. If you didn’t, be afraid. I make rude people suffer.