An intro to what will probably be a longer fic dealing with dreams and such. There'll be some cameos from the second Dream (from Neil Gaiman's version of "The Sandman") and Morpheus' elder sister Death, because in this situation they're working together. But it's nothing deep; They're Endless, so they really don't do much but observe.

(And yes, the second Dream's name is Daniel. Our DP Daniel will just be Danny.

A/N: I don't own DP or Sandman, and I'm warning you all ahead of time that there might be some violence and slightly more mature themes. It should have a happier ending, but I'm not entirely sure. I'll be writing this story parallel to another one, which should be only three or four chapters, I think...I'll probably start and finish that one before this one progresses much.

Enjoy!


Her breathing was even, measured, calm. It had been for a few weeks, the entity noticed. He'd dwelled here, on and off, out of a half-concern for her. He was not Morpheus. He was dream.

"Daniel?"

He looked upward; Morpheus' elder sister had returned, smiling softly.

"She'll be okay; let's go"

The dream master nodded, feeling an odd shift in the air. Someone was returning to this place, like a memory. He gave a questioning glance to Death. She lowered her eyes.

"I don't know what it is either, Daniel. I can't make a ghost obey me. I only bring them to judgement."

The voice in response was quiet; unusual for Death's brother, but almost familiar for Daniel.

"Yes. I know."


Danny had awoken, like any other morning, but something was different. His room looked filthy; like it hadn't been clean for months. He shifted on the bed. The sheets did not move. He pushed himself out of bed; but touched no ground.

A panic struck him, and he tried to concentrate, to shift back. Nothing happened. He called out, screamed.

There was no response. He scrambled through the air towards the mirror. He saw the barest outline of a reflection. It didn't make sense, and panic gripped him. He pulled back and tried to think clearly. He'd gone to bed the night prior; Vlad was mayor, tensions were high, and now...

Everything looked different. The town was so green. Danny poked his head through the door of his room; the house was quiet. There were what seemed liked char marks, half hidden by paint. He glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye, spun around.

It was Jazz. He tried to draw attention to himself, made noise; she didn't respond. Just looked very quiet; not her usual morning self. Another odd thing. Danny looked past Jazz, to the photos on the wall. He scanned the familiar photos, something unfamiliar about them.

Every time there was one of him alone, a small stripe of black ran over a corner.

He floated to the kitchen, where the family sat. They chatted quietly; no one was really awake. Danny attempted to get their attention. There was never a response. This was odd.

Maybe he was still dreaming; he couldn't really tell. Sometimes, those nightmares had chased him into the waking world. Maybe it was a lucid dream. Still, there had to be some way to know, to find out. A thought crashed through his mind like a thunderbolt, and stuck in his throat.

Sam. Sam would be able to tell him.

He sped clumsily towards the Manson household. As he went, he saw a different town than he remembered. It wasn't anything big (besides the remaining greenery), just...something small that he couldn't place a finger on.

Danny alighted on his friend's windowsill, sliding easily through the closed window. He tried to walk towards her bed, but ended up taking slip-shod footsteps over the carpet.

He stopped for a moment, watching her sleep. A smile graced his lips for a moment.

And then he remembered why he had come.

"Sam? Sam?" he spoke quietly, hoping she'd hear him. When she didn't respond, he spoke louder, almost screaming. Sam started awake, confused. Who had called her?

And then her violet eyes locked with green orbs. And she stifled a scream.

"No, no Sam, it's me! Danny!"

Sam froze, unable to breathe. She then began to shake her head violently, muttering "No" softly again and again.

"Sam? Sam, what's wrong?!"

"You can't be real," she muttered.

"What?! Sam, why?"

She looked up, scared.

"You can't be Danny. He died. Last year"

Danny's eyes widened; he reeled back.

"What? HOW?!"

Sam's response was quiet.

"In a lab accident. I thought y--he was okay. He stumbled out, looked like you...but then he stopped breathing."