Leonardo soars into the air with a howling cry of glee echoing over the treetops. He touches down on the forest floor and sprints away at a speed that would make any normal turtle incredibly jealous.

"I am a super," he starts, skidding to a stop as he clenches his fists and grins, "hero!"

"What does every superhero need?"

The low voice—one that rumbles and scratches as if the owner is gargling gravel as they speak—sends chills up Leonardo's spine. He turns in slow circles, searching for the source with narrowed blue eyes.

His jaw clenches. "Who's there?" he demands.

"Dire Beaver!" A dark silhouette with purple eyes appears behind him. He turns around, but the creature is already gone, leaving behind only a rustling of disturbed air. "I'm everything you've ever feared in one convenient, horrifying package, and I'm gonna teach you something about pain!"

Leonardo sucks in a sharp breath and tries to face the voice, only to be greeted with a slash across the shell. He's flung into a tree with a gasp of pain, his head spinning and his skin starting to bead with nervous sweat as he tries to roll over and stand up. A giant purple beaver with massive claws and uneven buck teeth places a foot on his plastron, laughing maniacally as he holds the turtle down. Leonardo flails and struggles, his eyes wide and his breaths fast as he shoves against the beaver's foot to no avail.

Michelangelo pokes his tongue out a little as he draws all over Leonardo's face with a marker. The sleeping turtle doesn't stir even as the inked lines swirl over the ridge of his snout and lips.

"Man, he must've been tired," Raphael comments as he watches his brother scrawl his artistic genius across the canvas of Leonardo's face.

"He looks good, though," Michelangelo says, pulling away. He holds his marker upwards with his thumb, poking his tongue out and squinting one eye. "Handsome."

The area around Leonardo's mouth has a more human nose drawn on beneath his mask, along with arrows that point to his drawling, snoozing mouth. "Insert pizza here" is written around his agape mouth in rather neat handwriting, right next to the arrows.

"Nice work," Raphael says before cracking a yawn. "You know, I'm pretty tired myself. A little shut-eye wouldn't hurt anything, right?" He flops into the nearest armchair, looping his arms over themselves.

Michelangelo yawns. "Me too. Destiny is on watch, right?" Raphael gives him a positive grunt and he grins, leaning closer to his brother with his marker at the ready.

"Don't even think about it," Raphael says, eyes still shut.

Michelangelo squeaks and backs up, dropping the marker as he sits down in the other armchair. Another yawn stretches his freckled face and he curls up. "Naps are nature's...hugs," he mumbles.

Outside, Casey and April pull up to the house and park the van. Diaval stands up from beneath his tree and jogs over to the car as April and Casey start unloading groceries. Diaval gives them an expectant look and April hands him the box with the least breakable items as Casey hurries on ahead, wordless to either of them.

"Anything spicy?" Diaval asks April as he shuffles along after her towards the front steps.

"I got more chilli flakes for your tea, but that store was barren," April says with a sigh, shifting the box in her arms. Diaval trips up the stairs and she jams herself in front of him, catching him. She smiles a little bit. "You're the most clumsy person I've ever met, Diaval."

His cheeks gain slight colour and he grunts, lifting himself away from her as he grips the groceries tighter. Casey holds the door open for the both of them and they drop the items off on the kitchen table before the odd trio walks into the living room. They're greeted by three sleeping turtles.

Casey frowns and rests one hand on his hip. "We're out taking care of business and what are they doing? Squat," he huffs.

"Donnie must be on lookout," April says. "Come on."

"Uh, but—" Diaval starts. The two teens are already leaving, footsteps tromping up the stairs, and Diaval shifts in place. "Destiny's on watch..." he finishes quietly.

The pair of humans peer into Donatello's room, where he's still snoozing with a pair of underwear on his face and laying on his shell with his arms folded on top of his plastron. He snores softly, whistling with every exhale of breath that sends the crotch part of the underwear upwards.

"Or...not," April sighs.

Casey laughs. "Those weird teeth of his make him whistle!"

April tingles, her shoulders rolling with the uncomfortable feeling. "Wait...something's not right." She moves closer to the turtle and and carefully pulls the underwear off, tossing it to the floor hastily. "Donnie?" She tries to shake him awake, but to no avail. "Donnie! DONNIE!"

In Donatello's dream, the giant red beaver cackles and looms over him. The turtle backs up, his feet dragging and skipping against the asphalt.

"Peekaboo! I see you!" the beaver croons.

Donatello screams and dashes away, nearly tripping over a trash can, and he looks over his shoulder in an attempt to watch his pursuer. He bumps into a towering, plush body that makes him stumble backwards. His arms curl backwards towards his sides as an unwanted tremble rolls through him.

"I am Dark Beaver," the red beaver growls, dark eyes flicking over the lean terrapin's form. He's behind Donatello in an instant, hanging off a lamp post. "May I eat you?" In another swift movement, he's in between the turtle's legs, cackling away as if he's never had so much fun in his life. "You look salty."

Donatello shrieks, dodging the blows that the giant beaver aims at him. He ducks against the shining claws, his head retreating into his shell as he stumbles through the nearest shop door. However, when he pops back out, he finds himself inside Roosevelt High instead. A school bell rings, lockers fly open, and papers start whipping around in a sudden stale wind. Numerous duplicates of Dark Beaver crawl from classroom doors and cracking ceiling tiles, wailing with laughter.

"This can't be real," Donatello squeaks, his heart racing so hard he feels his plastron may shatter. The beavers continue showing off their amusement. "I must be dreaming. I just have to wake up. That's it!" He laughs nervously and smacks himself across the face. "Wake up!"

The beavers close in. He keeps smacking himself, russet eyes blown wide as he backs as far as he can against the wall, continuing to scream "wake up" as desperately as he can.

"No!" he yelps, sitting up in bed.

He looks around his room. Nothing but quiet. He goes on his knees and flips up himself upside down, checking under his bed. Nothing. He sits up and a rush of warm air rustles his mask tails. He stiffens.

"Still here!" Dark Beaver cackles. He drags one long claw down the side of Donatello's face. "Still going to eat you, my salty, salty friend." He cackles and lunges.

Casey grunts as he drags Donatello's sleeping body downstairs. Diaval stands behind the couch, everything about him completely still except for the nervous flicking of his irises between each of the turtles.

"Come on, dude, wake up already!" Casey demands as he nudges Donatello's foot.

Destiny walks in, arching an eyebrow in confusion at the sight of the turtles. "Donnie is still sleeping?" she asks. "Scratch that, they're all sleeping?"

"For some reason," Casey says. He turns and kicks the base of Donatello's shell. "Wake up!"

"That's not going to work!" April scolds, checking Raphael's pulse as she shoots Casey a glare.

"It was worth a try." He shrugs, rubbing his shaggy black hair. "Plus, I've always kind of wanted to do that."

Destiny moves closer to Leonardo, noticing the marker all over his mouth. She sighs as she smiles a tiny bit, reaching her thumb over and scrubbing off an arrow from the corner of his mouth.

"I don't understand it. They won't wake up," April says, her forehead creased.

The hairs on the back of Destiny's neck stand up and she leans closer to Leonardo, swiveling her ears as she listens. Her eyes widen and she straightens up. "Something's definitely wrong," she whispers. "Leo's pulse...it's not as strong as usual."

"Are you sure?" Casey asks.

She crosses her arms and shifts her weight against the edge of the couch cushion she's on. "He's all off. It's like I can sense it, but..." She looks to April, tail flicking. "Are you sensing anything? I'm not crazy, right?"

"No, I feel it too," April says. "It's like they're...trapped, trapped in their dreams." She places her hand on Raphael's cheek.

Raphael stares straight ahead, his electric green eyes stark in the darkness of the room. Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Destiny sit in front of him, their eyes white and round. A closed pizza box waits in the centre of the table, untouched.

The four mutants groan, almost zombie-like, and Raphael blinks once and his eyes dart to the side. In that quick blink, their faces are replaced with a myriad of freaky clown makeup, fruit replacing their features, noses and eyes melting so that their heads look like lumps of bubbling cheese. There's a loud screech as the pizza box flies open in a tornado of noise and wind. A giant orange beaver emerges from it, cackling hoarsely.

"I am Dread Beaver, and your soul is mine!" he shouts, aiming a claw at Raphael. He bellows out as his paws clench into fists.

Raphael's eyes widen as the scenery changes in a flash. The shadowy silhouettes of his family stand next to the beaver, playing heavy metal. Leonardo and Donatello play bass and guitar as their heads bounce, Destiny shakes her hair around as she plays the piano, fingers pounding against the keys, and Michelangelo smashes away on a drum kit. Dread Beaver laughs maniacally as white snakes appear out of the ground and surround Raphael's body, securing him to a chair.

"W-Woah!" he stammers.

Dread Beaver claps his massive paws together, making a giant white snake erupt from the ground and hover overtop of the rocky terrain. Snakes keep surrounding Raphael's neck, face, and arms, making him scream.

Destiny paces back and forth, raking her fingers through her hair as she tries to figure out how to wake the turtles up. She can't explain why she's so on edge or why this sleep doesn't feel natural to her. She goes near them and her fur stands on edge. Casey and April keep thinking. Diaval watches like a statue, unblinking, unmoving.

Michelangelo giggles with glee as he hops through a sugar-coated dream world. Everything smiles at him; the frosted trees, the lollipops, the gumdrops, the sun. He skids to a stop in front of a turquoise-coloured beaver, one that is also laughing away.

"I'm Dave Beaver," he greets happily. "I'ma 'sposed ta scare you." He playfully paws the air.

"Really? Then I guess you should've left your adorable buck teeth at home, Dave," Michelangelo responds, grinning widely as he bounces back and forth.

"They are adorable, aren't they?" Dave spins around and smiles, swinging his tail.

"And check out your widdle paddle tail! You wanna play ping-pong?" the turtle asks.

The beaver nods. "I kinda do, yeah!"

"Sweet!"

A pink, striped ball lands in Michelangelo's waiting hands, emitting a high-pitched laugh. The two animals laugh and start smacking the ball between themselves.

The four teenagers left behind in reality stare at Michelangelo. The orange-masked turtle smiles and sighs happily as he snoozes.

"Mikey actually kinda looks okay," Casey comments.

"Yeah, but his pulse is getting weaker," April says.

"They all are," Destiny adds, her hands clenched into fists. "I just want to know what's going on!" she continues, ripping her claws through her curls again and shaking off any loose hairs that come off with the swipe.

"So, they're sick?" Casey asks.

"None of them have a fever, but I feel something strange," April mutters. "Like, something is draining the life out of them."

Destiny instantly straightens, a growl sounding from deep in her throat. "So how do we save them?"

"I...I don't know."

"Uh...hey?" Diaval asks, waving his hand. The three teens turn to him. "None of 'em have desires. Not normal," he admits, glancing down at Leonardo briefly as his jaw shifts to twist his mouth into a frown. "People desire while they dream."

"Woah, seriously?" Casey asks, walking closer to Diaval as he digs his hands into his pockets. "Now...how is that supposed to help us?"

"Could connect to 'em," Diaval says. "Can see into dreams sometimes...try hard enough. Could find what's wrong and...dunno."

Destiny's tail lashes and she lifts a hand to her chin, stroking it thoughtfully. Casey observes Diaval, one eyebrow arched, and April thinks over the plan as she kneels next to Donatello.

"That's a good idea," April says. "If Diaval can see what's going on for them, he could help us figure out what to do. Then...I can try to communicate with them," she says, shifting in place.

"Alright, do your thing, Wiz-Kid," Casey says, grinning at Diaval.

Although the archer narrows his eyes at the nickname, he doesn't react further. He walks to the centre of the living room and shuts his eyes, bracing his fingers against his forehead and scrunching his face in concentration.

The others wait, breath hitched as Diaval's eyes squint tighter, his hands starting to shake as perspiration appears on his forehead as the only sign of his effort. He jolts, gasps sharply, and before anyone can question what's wrong, he pitches backwards. Destiny just manages to catch him, slowing his descent enough for him to reach the floor without damage.

"Diaval?" she asks. "DIAVAL!"

Her hands flutter near him but don't cross the distance to actually touch him, as if his body is a museum artifact that, should it be touched, could break apart. In Diaval's case, that statement is more close to reality than one would expect. She snaps her gaze upwards, a new fire blazing within their wild depths.

"What...is going...on?" she demands through gritted teeth.

"I don't—" April starts. She reaches over and brushes Diaval's neck. "His pulse is fine...maybe he just passed out?"

Casey frowns slightly and holds up one finger. "Wait, that Bernie guy asked if we'd been feeling tired," he remembers.

Destiny stands up and grabs Casey's collar, yanking him closer to her. "Who is Bernie? Does he know what's happening?!"

"Calm down, wolfie! He's the guy who owns the grocery store we went to," he responds, slightly put off by her anger. "Weird guy, maybe had too much coffee or something."

"And he had a book..." April says, cradling Donatello's head against her chest. "Somniorum. It's Latin for 'dreams' or 'of the dreams,' I think."

Casey's eyebrows furrow. "I'll go see what's in that book," he decides, walking around the back of the couch and retrieving his baseball bat. He swings it onto his shoulder. "You girls do what you can here."

"I'm coming too," Destiny calls, following after him.

He grips her shoulder and flashes a smirk. "Des, I've got this. I—"

"Something is killing them. Something is killing Leo," she says, her tone low and dangerous. Her eyes dart to her feet and she adds in a much softer volume, "I'm not losing him again."

Casey and April exchange a glance as the wolf girl brushes past Casey and disappears outside. Casey dons a brief smile and salutes to the redhead.

"We'll be back with answers, Red, I promise," he says.

He too heads out the door, the screen door slamming shut and leaving April alone in a house of slumber.