I dream, but it's not a nightmare.

At least, not at first.

I stand in the garden outside the inn, but it's not dead and overgrown. Instead, it brims with early spring flowers. Snowdrops, crocus, daffodils, iris, hellebore, and primrose fill every space with an abundance of white, yellow, pale pink, and purple blooms. I breathe the scent of a fresh spring-rain on the air, and feel a deep sense of joy.

Turning, I see that the inn looks charming and pristine, and the door gleams with a fresh coat of dark green paint. Damien--no, Dantalian--is standing before it. He steps towards me and takes my hands in his.

"What do you think, Sakariel? Will it do?"

I glance at the quaint house and the garden and nod. "It'll do for us," I say.

We've taken physical bodies to exist on this plane, and Dantalian's appearance is different from what I'm used to seeing. It doesn't matter, and I feel that I'd recognize him in any form.

Leading me inside, he brings me to a small room, plainly furnished but comfortable. He takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him.

"Well?" he asks, uncertainty in his eyes.

"It's perfect," I say.

He kisses me and walks me backward until my legs collide with the edge of the bed and I fall back.

He falls with me, and together we tumble onto the soft mattress.

"I love you." He brushes his lips against mine, and his eyes are black with desire.

It's a sin, we're told, but I don't believe it. There's nothing sinful in this feeling, and nothing sinful in what it leads us to do. It's just love, and the desire to be loved in return, and the joy of knowing that we are. Nothing is more divine.

"I love you, too," I smile against his mouth, and then I kiss him, long and slow and deep.

"What do you want?" he breathes against my ear.

My breath catches.

"Make me yours," I say. "All of me."

Now it's his turn to catch his breath. "You're certain?" he asks.

"Yes." I've never been more certain of anything.

When he takes me, it's with a careful, gentle pleasure that teaches me all the reasons I love him. I gasp and shiver beneath his touch, move against his body, revel in the union of our physical forms.

He takes his time, and when at last he brings us to fulfillment, I lose myself in an ecstasy more intense than any I've known before.

Afterward, we lie together in a haze of quiet contentment, and I think that if Heaven exists, this may be it.

Then the dream shifts, and I'm somewhere else: a clearing in a forest, surrounded by trees crowned by bright new leaves. Dantalian stands before me, but now fear and despair have replaced the happiness in his eyes.

"They're coming," he says. "I don't know how they found us, but they did. There's nowhere else to run."

"It's not your fault," I say, pain twisting my heart. "None of this is your fault."

"I wish that were true," he returns. His eyes hold an ocean of grief, and I wish I could take it from him, spare him this torment, but I can't. And I'm about to make it worse.

"Dantalian," I say, touching his face. "There's still a way out for you. It's not too late. They'll forgive you if you recant, if you--"

He catches my hand. "No. Please, don't ask it of me. Anything but that."

My heart is breaking, but I force myself to go on. "Use the Sephiroth blade, Dantalian. Kill me, and recant your love. They'll have no choice but to let you go."

Tears spill from his eyes. "I can't."

"Please," I beg him, "I know it would mean utter extinction, but I prefer that to what they intend for me. Spare me that end, cheat them of my death, and save yourself. Kill me, please, before it's too late."

The pain in his eyes is more than I can bear, but I force myself not to look away. I owe him that much at least, to witness what I've done to him.

Slowly, the blade takes form in his hand. It's long and thin, and glows with blue fire. It's nearly solid when it flickers and falls apart like dry sand. Dantalian lets his arm drop, and he begins to weep.

"Sakariel...I'm sorry...I can't."

Then there are others in the clearing, tearing us from each other's arms. They place chains on my wrists and around my throat. Dantalian watches, torment and horror on his face, and then they chain him too.

"Dantalian!" I call, as they take him. "I'll find you! If there's anything left of me, I'll find you again! I swear it!"

Then I'm led away into the hopeless dark.

~xxx~

I wake up with a splitting headache, my face wet with tears, and the ache of grief and fear pressing on my chest. Damien is leaning over me, shaking me gently.

"Hey--you okay?" he asks.

The pain of the dream is so fresh I can't help myself, and even though I know the emotions aren't mine, I throw my arms around him and hold on like he's a life-raft on a storm-tossed sea.

He rubs his hands over my back until I have enough control to let him go.

"Sorry," I mumble, wiping at my wet face. "You had another nightmare."

He looks confused. "Did I? I thought I had to be asleep for that."

Now it's my turn to be confused. "Weren't you? Until just now, I mean?"

"No, I've been up awhile. I went out and got us breakfast. When I came back, you were crying in your sleep."

I don't know what to make of that, or the fact that the dream hadn't been from Damien's perspective at all. Or that it didn't give me a shred of energy. In fact, I feel hollowed out and drained dry.

It's almost like--

I stop myself because it's impossible. The dream could not have been mine, because I don't have dreams. No dream-eater does.

Damien's watching me, and I recall the first part of the nightmare, before it turned bad, and feel myself blush. He'd looked different in the dream, and gone by another name, but it had still been him.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing." I sit up and move away from him.

It occurs to me that I have a way to prove the dream was his and not mine. If it's from his memories, then the events it portrayed were real. Most of it was stuff I'd seen or known already, but there was one thing I'd never heard of before.

"What's the Sephiroth blade?" I ask.

The color drains from Damien's face, and it's like iron doors slam shut behind his eyes. "You saw that?" he asks.

"I...yes." Mentally, I award myself top prize for Insensitive Asshat. I may have experienced his dream, but he lived it.

He stands and goes to the window.

"It's a blessing I bear. Part of my nature. There is more than one. High-level Fallen can manifest them from the emanation of the divine in their being. Sephiroth blades are among the few weapons that can truly destroy spiritual beings--mortal and immortal alike. To die by such a blade is to suffer true annihilation, complete extinction of being. Because of this, they are both feared and sought after. Most who bear one keep it secret. Only Sakariel knew of mine."

I'm not sure if my comfort will be welcome, but I lay a hand on his shoulder anyway. "I'm sorry," I say. "I'm sorry you lost him. I...saw how much you loved him."

He lays his hand over mine and squeezes it gently.

"Have something to eat. The dead zone is some miles from here, and the sooner we move on the better. Azael and his minions may not be able to find me with my power suppressed, but we'd best not linger in one place too long."

I get up and dress. Breakfast turns out to be more pancakes. Several kinds. "You like pancakes, huh?" I ask, choosing the buttermilk and banana variety.

"Not really," he says. "But it seems like you do."

I laugh. "They're my favorite."

He serves himself a plate and takes a bite.

"They were Sakariel's too," he says. "He used to say it would almost be worth being human, just for the food."

I think about that. "Will you tell me about him?" I ask. Maybe if I understand what kind of person he was, my strange experience of Damien's dream will make more sense.

But the iron doors behind his eyes fall shut again, and his face goes blank. "Maybe some other time," he says. We finish our breakfast in silence, and then it's time to leave.